


Bowl of Oranges

by coincidental_penalties, watchforwalkers



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coming Out, Episode: s01e20 Theatricality, First Time, Fix-It, Fluff, IKEA, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:23:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coincidental_penalties/pseuds/coincidental_penalties, https://archiveofourown.org/users/watchforwalkers/pseuds/watchforwalkers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Burt hadn't interrupted Finn's homophobic tirade in "Theatricality," leaving Kurt and Finn to work things out on their own? Given enough space, perhaps the two could talk through their immediate problems and the root of those issues. Being stranded at an exit in Piqua, Ohio, provides all the space they need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bowl of Oranges

Kurt leaves for school at the usual time, knowing it will be quite easy to ask forgiveness for having skipped school compared to asking permission ahead of time. He still needs to visit two more stores, and then put everything in the room. The last thing Kurt wants or needs is for Finn to see the room while he’s still putting everything together; it would ruin the entire surprise. 

His shopping takes less time than he expects, giving Kurt plenty of time to rearrange the furniture and then the accessories. He knows the privacy partition doesn’t really work with the rest of the room, but there isn’t apparently much use for privacy partitions in Lima or the surrounding area, so it’s his only option. Kurt isn’t sure if he’s done what he intended to do. The room may be too masculine or too feminine, and there’s not really any way that Kurt would know. They’ve made that clear enough. Kurt had thought his previous minimalist design was nearly unisex, but clearly it had been too feminine or too... something for Finn, so naturally Kurt had needed to add more color and texture to the room. 

The last touch is the platter of oranges. Finn eats more than Kurt even can imagine eating, and Kurt admits that he likes a large snack at least once or twice a day. Oranges are healthy, at least. When Kurt hears Finn arrive, he heads up the stairs, turning out the light so Finn can experience all of the changes at once. 

“I had to skip school to finish it, but I really think you’re going to like it.” Kurt takes a deep breath and flips on the light as he reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Consider it a peace offering after all the yelling that we’ve been doing. I used Marlene Dietrich and Gary Cooper in _Morocco_ as my inspiration. It’s a perfect blend of the masculine and the feminine, the muted and the theatrical.” 

“Are you freaking insane? I can’t live here. I’m a dude.” Kurt can feel his face fall ever so slightly. No matter what he tries or what he does, Finn and Burt remind him he’s not _really_ a guy, not a dude. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”

“It’s a privacy partition. It’s the only one I could find on such short notice. Why are you getting angry about everything? I worked hard on this.”

“That’s not a privacy partition! Why is it so hard for you to understand? I don’t want to get dressed in front of you. You know that I—I put my underwear on in the shower before I come out, when you’re around? I just don’t wanna have to worry about that kinda stuff in my own room.” 

“And what _stuff_ are you referring to?” Kurt demands, more angrily than he means to. 

“No. You know what I’m talking about. Don’t play dumb. Why can’t you just accept that I’m not like you?” 

“I have accepted that.”

“No you haven’t.” Finn shakes his head. “You think I don’t see the way you stare at me? How flirty you get? You think I don’t know why you got so excited that we were going to be moving in together?”

“It’s just a room, Finn!” Kurt says, almost explosively, not sure if he’s more angry or feeling exposed. “We can redecorate it if you want to!” Because once again, Kurt has failed miserably at being like any other guys he knows. 

“Okay. Good. Well then the first thing that needs to go is that _faggy_ lamp,” Finn yells, pointing at the lamp. “And, and then we need to get rid of this faggy couch blanket.”

“Couch blanket?” Kurt repeats incredulously, because much as it hurts to hear Finn saying that, something about the absurdity of Finn referring to the throw as a ‘couch blanket’ seems more important to address immediately. 

“Yeah,” Finn says, almost blustering at this point as he angrily stabs his finger in the direction of the throw. “The couch blanket!”

“No one calls it a couch blanket! It’s a throw!”

“It’s a _blanket_! On a _couch_!”

“That I _threw_ artfully onto the couch, which is why it’s called a _throw_ ,” Kurt retorts, his voice rising. 

“Why would you call it that?” Finn yells. “That’s the stupidest name for a blanket! So, what, if I throw my shoes on the floor, they’re _throw shoes_? That doesn’t make any sense!”

“They aren’t _floor shoes_ either!” Kurt screams. “Sit down and eat an orange!”

Finn abruptly shuts his mouth and tilts his head to the side slightly, like he’s not sure what he just heard. “What?” he asks in his normal volume. 

“Eat a damn orange,” Kurt repeats, feeling defeated, and he sits on the daybed next to him. 

Finn, however, doesn’t sit. He looks at the bowl of oranges, then he looks back at Kurt, squinting at him. “I don’t understand.”

“We just made up the terms ‘floor shoes’ and ‘throw shoes’, Finn. I think we should stop. And there are oranges.”

“What’s happening right now?” Finn asks, still looking between Kurt and the bowl with a perplexed, almost worried, expression. “I thought we were fighting.”

“I don’t—I can’t fight all day at school and come home and fight, too,” Kurt admits, staring at the fabric-draped wall. He gazes around the room and shakes his head. “My god, you look like a... like the tall man in the circus tent.” 

“Like the—okay, now I’m, like, _really_ confused,” Finn says. He sits down heavily on the other daybed, which creaks and shakes under his weight. “I thought those oranges were fake.”

“They’re a _snack_. So we didn’t have to go up the stairs all the time,” Kurt says wearily. “I don’t know how to do... I don’t know how to be a ‘dude’.” 

“Oh, they’re for real for eating? Not just decoration? That’s kind of cool,” Finn says. He turns his squint—Kurt supposes it must be Finn’s inquisitive look, though it really does just look like a squint—on the bowl of oranges again. “And, I don’t know, Kurt, just... did you ever see a dude’s room with all this,” he gestures at the draped fabric, “hangy stuff?”

“You didn’t seem to like the way it was before.” Kurt sighs. “So I thought it needed more color and texture.” 

“I didn’t like it because I just, I didn’t _like it_ ,” Finn retorts, not looking Kurt in the eyes as he speaks. “I didn’t like any of it, any of this.” He points around the room, and then between himself and Kurt. “Nobody even asked me if I _wanted_ to move. They just told me. Nobody cared what I wanted or what I thought about it.”

Kurt thinks for a moment. Looking back, it does seem almost strange that Carole didn’t talk to Finn at all before they had the celebratory party. He nods slowly. “I don’t know why your mom didn’t talk to you,” he says carefully. “Dad talked to me before he spoke to your mom, and he asked me not to mention it to you before he talked to her. I wasn’t sure when he had until the day we were all down here.”

“That’s a crappy thing to be surprised with,” Finn says. He crosses his arms and hunches over a little, still not quite looking at Kurt. “I’ve lived in that house my whole life. It’s not just the stuff with you. She already got rid of most of my dad’s stuff, and now we don’t even get to keep our house?”

Kurt nods again, because part of him—a big part of him—wants to say that it sounds like it doesn’t have _anything_ to do with him, and everything to do with Finn and his mother. “But I’m a lot safer to yell at,” he finally says. 

Finn’s shoulders slump, and his head hangs until his chin rests on his chest. He heaves a long, loud sigh before answering, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Kurt says softly, then stands up and slowly starts pulling down the fabric. “But you know you can’t—you can’t use that word. Right?” 

“I’m sorry,” Finn repeats, almost whispering it this time. “I’m so sorry.”

Kurt folds some of the fabric and starts gathering more of it, trying to think what he should say. He can’t do anything about Carole’s decisions, and he sighs as he folds up the last of what had been on the walls and ceiling. “I know. I’ll—hang on.” He goes to his desk and looks through his catalogs briefly before finding the one he’s looking for, and he picks up a pen. “I can’t—just circle what you like,” he says, holding out the Ikea catalog. 

Finn looks at the catalogue and then up at Kurt. His eyes are glassy as he takes the catalog and pen from Kurt’s hands. “I thought you didn’t like the Ikea stuff,” he says.

Kurt sighs. “We’re on a budget, remember? Even if we throw in some of our own money, or got Dad to double it.” 

Finn starts flipping through the catalog like he’s just been given assigned reading. “We don’t need sinks or anything, right?”

“No.” Kurt frowns and looks around. “But perhaps we could put ‘dorm room size refrigerator’ on the list the next time your mother goes to Walmart.”

“That would be kind of cool,” Finn says. His mouth moves into a slight half-smile as he keeps looking down at the catalog. “We could get a microwave, too, and maybe a coffee pot or something like that.”

“Ooh, yes, not having to go upstairs for coffee would be nice,” Kurt agrees. He keeps stacking the things to take back; luckily he still has all of his receipts. Maybe all of that ridiculous ‘advice’ from previous centuries about the way to a man’s heart was right, after all: straight through his stomach. 

“Hey, Kurt?” Finn says quietly. He continues turning pages and occasionally circling things, not looking up at Kurt.

“Yes, Finn?” Kurt asks, folding up the privacy partition and setting it near the stairs. 

“Maybe we just don’t...” Finn fiddles with the corner of the page he’s looking at. “Maybe if we just don’t tell anybody we’re sharing a room?”

Kurt sighs. It shouldn’t matter to anyone, but he knows that it does, and consequently, it matters to Finn as well. “I suppose it wouldn’t come up most of the time,” he finally says. “We’re going to have to make a decision about how we’re utilizing the space.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Finn says. He does seem to relax a little, thought. “Hey, are those Navy orange?”

“Navy? Oh, navel. I’m not sure,” Kurt admits. 

“I like tangerines, ‘cause they make me feel like a giant.”

“Finn, you’re always a giant,” Kurt says, looking at Finn perplexedly. “And what I meant was, if we go with any larger beds, the room is going to be mostly beds.” 

“Is that bad?” Finn asks. “I kind of need a lot of bed, because of what you said. Giant.”

“I was just thinking.” Kurt still doesn’t know what a ‘dude’ would like, but it seems like a television area would be a good peace offering of sorts. “If we had room for a television and a couch or a few chairs.” 

“So, what? We could have people over or something?” Finn looks concerned again, squinting down at a page of what appears to be rugs. “I don’t know, Kurt.”

“I was more thinking so we could watch things that aren’t _Deadliest Catch_?” Kurt offers. “Or maybe you like that show?”

“Is that the one with the fishermen?”

“Yes.” Kurt sighs and checks to see if he’s forgotten anything that needs to be returned. “It is.”

“Then no,” Finn says. “Why, do you watch it?”

“No, no,” Kurt says hurriedly. “Dad loves it. So if he’s home and there’s a marathon of it on, I just thought—well, we could have a television down here, too.” 

“You boys okay?” Burt calls down the stairs, then comes most of the way down. “I thought I heard yelling down here.” 

“We’re fine, Dad,” Kurt says, smiling at him. “We were just discussing, um—” He looks at Finn with wide eyes. 

“Fish!” Finn calls out.

“Exactly! I prefer a stronger flavor but Finn likes a halibut,” Kurt blurts. 

“Oh.” Burt frowns. “I guess that’s something we should all talk about sometime, meals.” 

“Hali... butt?” Finn whispers. “Is that fish?”

“Yes,” Kurt hisses, then turns back to his dad and smiles again. “Yes, sometime with all four of us. Nothing to worry about right now.” He resists the urge to make a shooing motion with his hands. 

“Well, that was a strong conversation about fish, then.” Burt looks around the room and frowns again. “I thought the room was done, Kurt.” 

“Yes, well, once Finn was in it...” Kurt trails off. “He looked like a giant in a dwarf house.”

“Hey!” Finn protests quietly. Kurt turns to glare at him, one eyebrow raised. “I mean, yeah, I totally did. It was scary. There were, like, poison, uh. Apples?” He looks at Kurt and gives him a smile that seems to be prompting him to say something in response. 

“Very scary,” Kurt agrees, because he can’t figure out what to say about the apples. “So scary, in fact, Dad, that really, we might need more to make the room habitable for two...” He trails off hopefully. 

Burt sighs and pulls out his wallet. “Here’s another three hundred,” he says, handing the money to Kurt.

“Can we get some tacos with that?” Finn whispers as Burt starts to walk back to the stairs. 

“No!” Kurt whispers back, the sound of Burt’s footsteps on the stairs mostly covering the sound. “We have to figure out furniture, remember?” He pauses and listens to the door close at the top of the stairs, then exhales loudly. “I feel like we just pulled something off.” 

“Tacos aren’t that expensive,” Finn says under his breath, but he does nod. “Are you gonna tell him what I said?”

Kurt sighs and drops back onto the now-mostly bare daybed. “What good would that do any of us, Finn?”

Finn shrugs. “I dunno. I just thought you guys talked about everything, so, you know. I needed to know if he was gonna be really pissed at me or not.”

“He _would_ probably be, yes,” Kurt points out, raising his eyebrow. “And you know why, too.” Kurt thinks it’s possible that Finn will concoct a far angrier Burt in his head than Burt would actually be, all things considered. 

“Yeah,” Finn sighs, hanging his head again. “I know why, too.”

“And no, we don’t talk about everything,” Kurt says more quietly, almost to himself. It may be unfair of him, but Kurt doesn’t feel like he could talk to his dad if he really did have a date. 

“More than me and my mom, obviously,” Finn says. 

Kurt purses his lips uncomfortably, because it’s not his place to say anything about that. Or maybe it is; Kurt doesn’t really know how the four of them living together is going to work, either. He finally shrugs. “Different topics are easier for different people, I think.” 

“I guess,” Finn replies, turning the Ikea catalog sideways and squinting at the picture. “Like how, you know. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to the guys at school.”

“You can’t tell them—well, I guess you _can_ , but I’d really rather you didn’t complain and use that language to reinforce it,” Kurt says softly. 

“I know. I know, okay? I’m sorry.” Finn turns the catalog upside down like he’s trying to figure out a particularly confusing centerfold of a boob magazine. “But Azimio and Karofsky are already giving me crap about the glee club, and, well. You.”

“They’ve _been_ giving all of us crap about being in the glee club,” Kurt can’t help but point out. “They pushed _Tina_ into a locker, Finn! Tina! That’s not right.” 

“Yeah, but they’re saying I’m, you know.” Finn scowls. “But they shouldn’t have pushed Tina. That’s not cool.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Either ignore them or fight back, Finn. Admittedly, I fight back verbally, not physically.” 

“Easy for you to say. You’re... _you_ ,” Finn counters. He turns the catalog right-side-up again.

“ _Easy_?” Kurt demands. “Absolutely nothing about my day to day life at that school is _easy_ for me, Finn.” 

“But it’s not like you’ve got the option to not have people think you’re how you are,” Finn says. “And anyway, you’ve got, like, eye daggers.” He glances up at Kurt and winces. “Like now, how you’re doing your eyes.”

“They don’t really work all the time or on everyone,” Kurt says almost ruefully. 

“No way, man. That shit’s scary!” Finn argues. 

“I could offer to accompany you and glare,” Kurt says, “but I think that would defeat the purpose.” 

“I guess so,” Finn says. “But we’re not really gonna have to live in Morocco?” He glances at the bowl of oranges. “The oranges can stay though, right?”

Kurt laughs in spite of himself and nods. “The oranges can stay.” He pauses. “I skipped school today. We could skip another day and return that stuff and get new stuff. That would be a day you didn’t have to deal with everything at school.” 

“That would be kind of cool,” Finn says hesitantly. “Could we...”

“Could we what?” Kurt asks, expecting the answer to be something along the lines of ‘not telling anyone they were together’. 

“Get some ice cream after?” Finn finishes. “I just really want some good ice cream, not the cardboard box kind.”

“Oh.” Kurt is fairly sure his surprise shows on his face. “Sure. We can get ice cream.” He pauses. “Please tell me you’re drying off in the shower before putting on your underwear, because otherwise you’re going to get a disgusting fungus.”

“Dude, I kinda don’t want to talk about that, okay?”

“Fungus, Finn. That’s like mold on bread. You don’t want that on your body.” 

“Kurt, that’s kinda gross,” Finn says, grimacing comically. “Does your shower have, like, _fungus germs_ in it or something?”

“All showers do.” Kurt freezes suddenly and turns towards Finn with a shudder. “You probably shower barefoot after football practice, don’t you?” 

“I swear, dude, I am never going to take a shower again, ever,” Finn says solemnly, his eyes wide and the grimace still lingering on his face. “Like, ever-ever.”

“You’ll still get fungus,” Kurt says matter-of-factly. “I need to actually go to school tomorrow. Do you want to skip Friday or Monday?”

“I want a version of this story where there’s no fungus,” Finn answers. “Can we skip both?”

“Hmm. Possibly,” Kurt concedes. “I would say rehearsing for Regionals is important, but we don’t have a set.”

“We could, uh. Look for that stuff that Rachel’s always talking about,” Finn offers. “When we go to get the furniture. Sheet music.”

“That’s a good idea,” Kurt says, and he thinks he manages to conceal his surprise. “Ikea’s in Cincinnati, so there should be a good store there. Did you find anything?” 

“I can’t tell if this is a bed, a couch, or a chair,” Finn admits, holding up the catalog like he’s displaying the same confusing centerfold from earlier. 

“That particular item is a shelf,” Kurt says. 

“How can you tell?” Finn asks, flipping the catalog around. “I can’t tell.”

“I have magic Ikea decoder glasses,” Kurt says, deadpan. 

“Cool. Did they come with the catalog?”

“Oh, Finn.” Kurt sighs and stifles a laugh. “No, they did not, and they don’t exist. I’ve looked at the catalog before, however.” 

“That makes more sense, I guess,” Finn says, though he sounds somewhat disappointed. 

“What’s your favorite color?” Kurt asks, even though he realizes as he asks the question that he should have asked before. 

“Blue,” Finn says. “But not like crayon blue. Like sky blue.”

“Hmm. Blue.” Kurt nods to himself. “Well, we’ll see what we can do. Blue and grey, we have to make sure we don’t inadvertently have a Civil War memorial for our bedroom.” 

“Am I allowed to eat the oranges now?”

“Not _all_ of them,” Kurt says, leaning forward and grabbing one for himself. “But otherwise, yes.” 

“Just so, you know, we’re clear and everything,” Finn says. “If this is gonna work...”

“Yes?” Kurt prompts, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m probably gonna get orange all over this catalog. Possibly other catalogs, too.”

Kurt sighs. “Just avoid my _Vogue_ magazines, please?”

***

The remaining time before Friday is somewhat awkward. Kurt tries to minimize the awkwardness by not staring or acting in a way that could be construed as flirting, and Finn seems to go out of his way to be accommodating, including stuttered compliments, until Kurt begins to wonder if they aren’t making it more awkward in their attempts to make things less awkward.

No one talks much over breakfast, and Kurt has already returned all the items purchased in Lima, so he tells Burt goodbye and then leads Finn out to the Navigator, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “Backpack,” he hisses at Finn as they reach the front door.

"But I thought we were—"

“Forgiveness, not permission!” Kurt whispers urgently. 

"So they don't know that we—"

Kurt shakes his head, eyes wide. “No!” he hisses.

"Should I pack a snack?" Finn whispers.

Kurt resists the urge to giggle and shakes his head. “We can stop on the way.” 

Finn picks up his backpack. "Bye!" he calls out loudly as he follows Kurt out the door, shutting it behind them. "Can we stop before we get on the highway?"

“We just ate breakfast,” Kurt points out, unlocking the Navigator and putting his bag behind his seat. “Don’t you want to wait until at least Troy or Dayton?” 

"I just wanted a root beer," Finn says.

“We’ll drive-through,” Kurt decides. “I have the now somewhat sticky catalog in my bag, in case we need to remember what we’re looking for.” 

"Can I pick the music?" Finn asks.

Kurt sighs dramatically. “And here I’d put together a special playlist on my phone, consisting solely of Mama Monster and Madonna.” 

"Oh," Finn says, looking uncomfortable before he seems to force a smile onto his face. "Sure, that could be great, too."

“Finn,” Kurt says slowly, “has anyone pointed out to you previously that you’re a bit gullible?”

"Quinn," Finn says. "And my mom. Puck, too, I think. Is 'naive' the same as 'gullible'?"

“Not quite, but it is similar.” Kurt shakes his head. “My point, however, is that no, I did not actually make a playlist of Lady Gaga and Madonna.” 

"So, I _can_ pick the music?" Finn asks.

“Yes,” Kurt says, nodding. “You can look through my phone, use your own, use the radio, or there are some CDs in here.” He thumps the top of the storage console between the two front seats. “Probably under a few scarves and ties.” 

"I was just going to put the radio on the classic rock station, if that's cool," Finn says. "If it's not, we can just listen to whatever."

“That’s fine,” Kurt concedes. Finn turns on the radio and changes the station, and they drive in relative silence, with just the songs on the radio, for the first part of the trip. “So,” Kurt says after a bit, glancing sideways at Finn. “Did you have more trouble? With Azimio and Karofsky?” 

"I kinda avoided them," Finn says, an odd tone in his voice that Kurt might almost call guilt.

“A strategy I have employed in the past.” Kurt rotates his left ankle as he drives. “As much as I enjoyed the week, I’m quite relieved not to be in costume today.” 

"Yeah, I don't know how you walked in those shoes!" Finn says. "Those things were pretty crazy-looking."

“Oh, I could teach you,” Kurt says, trying to sound off-handed, and he purposely does not look in Finn’s direction. “Though I suppose you don’t have a specific need to be taller.” 

"I don't have a specific need to, I dunno. Break my neck or something," Finn says. "Sometimes I have a hard time walking in regular shoes. Those things would be, like, _throw shoes_ on me."

“They might throw you down, yes,” Kurt acknowledges, smiling as he drives. “Can I ask you a question, Finn?” 

"If it's about shoes, then you can try, but I probably can't answer," Finn says.

“No, it’s about Azimio and Karofsky.” Kurt sighs. “Why do they scare you? You’re as tall as they are, you’re on the football team—I don’t understand why.” 

Finn shrugs, looking out his window. "Well, there's only one of me and two of them. Plus, I'm tall, but they're kinda wide."

Kurt snorts, trying to hold back a laugh. “Are you trying to say—” Kurt gasps, letting himself laugh. “That they’re double-wide? Like a mobile home?” 

"Not double wide of me or anything, but at least double of you," Finn says. "Triple maybe for Azimio."

“We’re horrible,” Kurt says, still laughing. 

"Dude, they started it," Finn insists.

“But you aren’t the only guy who’s also in the glee club,” Kurt argues. “There should be at least two of you and two of them, if not more of you.” He doesn’t even mention his own presence, because he knows that wouldn’t help and would probably make it worse. 

"Mike and Matt kinda fly under the radar, so no reason to remind anybody they're in glee," Finn says. "And Puck promised his Nana he'd stop punching people."

“I highly doubt Azimio or Karofsky are aware of Puck’s promises to his Nana,” Kurt points out, though the idea of Puck’s Nana having that much control over him is interesting. 

"No, he announced it in the weight room during weights class," Finn says. "Everybody knows."

“That was particularly foolish.” Kurt shakes his head. “Regardless, Finn, just the fact that there’s two of them—it seems odd that they bother you so much.” 

"It's the kinda stuff they say. Rumors have feet, you know?" Finn shrugs again. "The wrong kinda stuff gets around, and it's a way bigger problem than two guys or a couple of slushies."

“A couple of slushies,” Kurt mutters, almost under his breath. The idea of only dealing with a _couple_ of slushies, in an entire school year, doesn’t seem like anything rooted in reality to him. “Ah yes,” he says more loudly. “The wrong kind of stuff.” 

"Yeah. You know," Finn says.

“Oh yes, _I_ know,” Kurt says, a little more viciously than he intends. “The kind of stuff that gets people, oh, thrown into dumpsters.”

"Hey, you know I'm sorry about that stuff, right?" Finn asks. "There's a status thing people used to expect me to keep. The status quote."

“Quo, Finn, the status quo, and while I may _know_ that fact, it doesn’t change anything in the past.” Kurt sighs. “You talk about a couple of slushies for an entire school year, and I would think of that as a week. You’re very concerned about status, and I can’t even condemn you for it. I don’t have that luxury, but I don’t know how I would act if I suddenly did.”

"I don't think 'quo' is a real word," Finn says, almost absently.

“It’s Latin,” Kurt says flatly. “I don’t know how to tell you not to care what people say.” 

"And I don't know what you want me to say," Finn says. "That I'm sorry, and it sucks you can't pretend you're somebody you're not? 'Cause I don't know what to say about that."

“My dad’s happy,” Kurt says quietly. “I’m very aware that his happiness depends in part on our ability to make cohabitation work out.” 

"I'm trying, okay?" Finn blurts out. "I feel like crap about all the stuff I said to you, and I'm trying to be cohabitable!"

“But I think ultimately the potential problem lies in how you react outside the house. Like at school.” Kurt sighs again, feeling like the conversation is causing quite a bit of sighing on his part. “I don’t doubt that we can make things work out at home, but what happens when someone does realize we share a room, Finn?” 

"I don't know!" Finn says. "I don't know what I'm supposed to say here. When people find out, they're gonna say stuff, and it's cool if that doesn't bother you, but I'm not _you_!"

“No, not least because I wouldn’t leave the house in that outfit.” Kurt drums his fingers on the top of the steering wheel. “And that was in fact my point. That you don’t know what you’re going to say when someone finds out, but that it will bother you, depending what other people say. I realize life is like that, not being able to plan for every eventuality, but this scenario seems more likely than not.” 

"And what do you want me to say when they say you're my boyfriend or the other crap they say?" Finn asks. "I mean, everybody already knows you're gay, Kurt. It's not like that kinda rumor's gonna mess things up for you!"

“No, but then, that’s not what they say to me, usually.” Kurt purses his lips. “And ignoring them is off the table?” 

"Is it working out so great for you?" Finn asks.

“You and I know that they’re less interested in spreading rumors about me and more interested in physically threatening me. I suppose asking them if they’re jealous is also out?”

"They threaten you 'cause they already _know_ you're gay, so there's no reason to spread anything around," Finn says quietly.

“Ask Brittany to make out with you in the halls for a week and if you ask nicely, she’ll let you grope her breasts, too,” Kurt says, feeling almost like he’s on a roll until he goes back over Finn’s last sentence. “Finn?” he says, his voice dropping a little. 

"What?" Finn answers. His voice has an edge to it, one that wasn't present the other day in Kurt's room when he was saying all those hurtful things.

“Do you—you might want to reword that. Or put a different emphasis on the words,” Kurt says, almost as if he’s babbling. 

"Can we talk about something else now?" Finn asks.

Kurt sighs, nodding after a moment. “Where do you want to stop for lunch?” 

Finn shrugs, turning once more to stare out the window. “Wherever. Is there stuff you don’t eat?”

“I prefer not to consume an excess of saturated fat solely for the purpose of eating it, but otherwise, no, not really.” 

“None of that made any sense,” Finn says. He sounds irritated, though it’s unclear whether the source of the irritation is that Kurt said it or that it doesn’t make sense to Finn. “Can we just get burgers?”

“Fine. As long as it’s not White Castle,” Kurt amends. 

“Dude, I’d have to eat like thirty-seven White Castle burgers,” Finn says. “Real-size food is fine.”

“Don’t you get a prize if you eat that many?” Kurt asks absently, not really expecting an answer, and he scans the billboards and highway signs as he drives. 

“Not the kinda prize you’d want.”

Kurt shakes his head, pressing his lips together, and he’s not sure if he wants to make a face or laugh. “There’s a Red Robin in a bit,” he says after another few minutes pass. “I think it’s our exit, anyway.” 

“That’s cool,” Finn answers.

Kurt sighs as he steers the Navigator off the interstate and into the Red Robin parking lot, and after turning off the engine he flips down the visor and examines his appearance critically. He can’t help looking somewhat baby-faced, so he assumes if they just act like they’re supposed to be there, not in school, it will get them through. 

“Nobody here knows us,” Finn says.

Kurt looks over at Finn and raises one eyebrow. “And?”

“So why are you so worried about how your hair looks?”

“If I only cared about my appearance for the sake of other people, Finn, I’d always look like I did that one week.” Kurt shudders slightly. “There’s no reason to look unkempt solely because we’re in a different town.” 

“You don’t look unkempt,” Finn says. “You just look normal. You-normal, anyway.”

“Hmmm,” Kurt hums, climbing out of the Navigator and then waiting behind it for Finn to appear before they head into the restaurant. After a short wait, during which Finn doesn’t talk at all, they’re seated in a dimly-lit booth towards the back of the restaurant. They continue to sit in silence until their waiter comes, at which point Finn orders a Very Berry Raspberry Lemonade without ice and Kurt just orders a pop.

Kurt taps his fingers on the table while they wait for their waiter to return with the drinks and take their food order, looking around the restaurant without really noticing what he’s seeing. Finn sighs quietly, propping his chin on his hand, his elbow on the table. Kurt continues tapping his fingers, thinking that Finn’s posture reminds him of that ill-fated dinner at Breadstix. After another couple of minutes, Finn sighs again, loudly and dramatically. The waiter brings their drinks, and Kurt keeps tapping the table, trying to get some kind of reaction more than anything else. 

Finn stirs his drink with his straw, after aggressively unwrapping the straw and balling up the paper, and huffs through his nose. After a few sips of his drink, he suddenly puts his hand on top of Kurt’s tapping hand.

“No,” Finn says.

Kurt raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of his pop, but doesn’t otherwise move. “Oh?”

“I’m gonna stab myself in the ear drums with my straw,” Finn responds.

“You probably won’t have much luck stabbing anything with a straw,” Kurt says calmly, not really wanting to draw attention to the fact that Finn is voluntarily touching him. If he wanted to, he could almost say Finn is holding his hand, even, whatever the motivation behind it. 

“Does there have to be tapping?” Finn asks. “Can there be, like, _not_ tapping?”

“Did you bring a pen?” Kurt asks, flipping over his paper placemat. “We can do tic-tac-toe. Or hangman.” 

“No, I didn’t bring a pen. And why do we have to do anything?” Finn asks. “Why can’t we just sit here and drink our drinks and wait for our food. People don’t always have to be doing something.”

“Fine.” Kurt takes another sip of his pop and goes back to staring around the restaurant, his hand still stationary. 

“Fine,” Finn replies. He doesn’t pull his hand away, either, and Kurt starts to suspect that Finn has either forgotten his hand is on top of Kurt’s at all or hasn’t fully processed that it might be odd. 

They both sit there, sipping their drinks, with Finn’s hand on top of Kurt’s on the table until the waiter comes back. As the waiter takes their food order, he glances down at the table, and then gives Kurt and Finn a strange, borderline-uncomfortable look. Finn must notice, because he scowls at the waiter.

“What?” Finn demands.

The waiter blanks his face quickly. “Are you ready to order?” is all he says, but when he looks down at his pad to write, Kurt can see him still eyeing their hands. 

“I’ll have the Banzai,” Kurt says. “With fries.” 

“And you?” the waiter says, turning to Finn. 

“The A1 thingy, with a second patty, fries,” Finn says. “That’s it, you can go now.”

The waiter frowns and walks away, and Kurt sighs. “Finn, now he’s going to spit on our burgers or something.” 

“I don’t know what that guy’s problem is,” Finn grumbles, his scowl deepening. “Just ‘cause two guys are eating lunch together, it doesn’t, like, _mean_ something.”

“Maybe he objects to your ice-less Very Berry Raspberry Lemonade,” Kurt suggests, deciding it’s probably easier not to point out that Finn appears to simply be holding his hand to anyone who did not witness the tapping. 

“Well, that’s dumb.”

“Lots of things are dumb.” Kurt sighs, resisting the temptation to flip his hand over or move it in any other way. They sit there silently until the waiter approaches with their burgers. After a few minutes, Finn’s finger starts to move, barely rubbing Kurt’s wrist, and Kurt decides not to mention it, since it’s pretty clear that the movement is absent-minded on Finn’s part, and not a conscious decision. 

“An A-1 with extra patty?” the waiter asks, still somewhat standoffishly. 

Finn looks like he’s about to snap at the waiter again, but then he glances at Kurt and just huffs again, pointing at the placemat in front of himself. The waiter sets both plates down, and as he turns to walk away, Finn seems to realize his hand has been on top of Kurt’s this whole time. His eyes widen slightly and he slowly pulls his hand away, keeping it close to the table until he reaches his silverware, not looking directly at Kurt the whole time. 

Kurt watches with some amusement as Finn very precisely cuts his burger in half, and Kurt places his own napkin in his lap. “At least you got your extra patty?” Kurt offers. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Finn says, immediately taking a bite of his burger that looks dangerously large to Kurt. “Tastes good at least,” Finn adds through his full mouth. 

“Good lord, don’t choke,” Kurt tsks. “I do know the Heimlich, but I’d prefer not to have to use it.” 

Finn swallows the bite. “Haven’t choked yet.”

“So reassuring,” Kurt says dryly, picking up his own burger. They’re both silent after that, except for the sounds associated with two teenage boys eating, and once both plates are empty, the waiter reappears. 

“Who gets the check?” the waiter asks, but he puts it down in the middle of the table without waiting for an answer, and walks away. 

“That guy’s a dick,” Finn says. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet, fishing out a twenty and putting it down on the tab.

“At least we don’t need to feel obligated to give him an exceptional tip?” Kurt says with a shrug, pulling out his own wallet. Finn shrugs, and Kurt puts down a ten before standing. “Ikea, now.” He resists the urge to say something to the waiter as they leave, because Finn wasn’t wrong: the waiter was a bit of a dick. 

The drive to Ikea is very short and mostly silent, and they stay quiet as they park and enter Ikea. Finn is more enthusiastic than Kurt expected, immediately grabbing a shopping list and pencil. He takes one of the bright yellow bags and follows Kurt through the showroom, scribbling down item numbers with a look of intense concentration as Kurt points out various furniture pieces. 

“If we have smaller beds or bunk beds, we could put in two of those, a table, and a television,” Kurt says, pointing at the chairs. 

“Uh-huh,” Finn replies absently, writing down more numbers. “Two of ‘em.”

“We can’t get a television here, though.” Kurt stops and frowns. “Do you think your mother would notice if ‘television’ _and_ ‘refrigerator’ were on the same list for Walmart?”

Finn scribbles something else down on the list. “Probably.”

As they wind their way through the showroom, they eventually reach the end, where the children’s things are, and Kurt turns to Finn. “We don’t need anything here, at least.” 

Finn wanders down one of the aisles, putting a package of something into the bag. Kurt looks up to see what’s on the shelf, and shakes his head. 

“Finn, we don’t need finger puppets.” 

Finn sighs and takes the finger puppets out of the bag, setting them back on the shelf. They take the elevator down to the marketplace level, where Finn immediately gets a shopping cart and strolls it into the kitchenwares area, grabbing items and putting them into the cart.

“Finn? We don’t need an egg timer,” Kurt points out. 

Finn sighs again and returns the egg timer to the shelf.

“Or a set of glass jars,” Kurt continues. 

Finn sighs more dramatically and returns the glass jars to the display.

“Finn, we also don’t need a boxed set of place settings—are we having a dinner party?”

Finn sighs even more dramatically, putting the place settings back on top of a large stack of place settings.

“Are you starting a hair dyeing business?” Kurt asks, picking up the pasta strainer and looking at it dubiously before setting it back down. “Otherwise, I don’t think we need that either.”

“But—”

“No, Finn. We don’t need it. Put it back.” 

“This sucks,” Finn mutters as he puts the pasta strainer back onto the shelf. “I like all this stuff.”

“You can pick things up in the textiles department,” Kurt promises. “We don’t need anything for a kitchen, because a microwave and a small refrigerator are not a kitchen.”

“I bet I could make spaghetti in the microwave,” Finn says.

“Why?” Kurt can’t help asking. “Why would you?” 

“I’m not saying I would, I’m just saying I _could_ ,” Finn says. He picks up a small French press and, while making unblinking eye contact with Kurt, sets it into the shopping cart. 

“Don’t forget to buy some coffee at the end, then,” Kurt says, turning to walk towards the rugs. “We don’t need any rugs.”

“You live in a basement,” Finn says. 

“So do you.”

“Yeah, and basements are cold,” Finn insists. “Rugs are warm. We need rugs. Probably, like, three or four.”

“Finn, there’s a very large, neutral rug already. Getting more rugs would take up almost all of our budget.”

“Can we get one rug?”

“Is there a specific rug you want, or do you just like the _idea_ of a rug?” Kurt asks skeptically. Finn points at a large cowhide. “No, we are not getting a two hundred dollar cowhide. Didn’t you have cowboy wallpaper before, anyway?”

“Then that one,” Finn says, pointing to the smaller sheepskin rugs and ignoring the topic of the cowboy wallpaper.

“Why?” Kurt asks. “If anyone asks my decorating inspiration, I’m going to have to say ‘eclectic’, you realize.”

“It looks like it would feel nice on my feet,” Finn explains. “Don’t you want to just take your shoes off and put your feet on that rug?”

“I have enough shopping stamina to get through Ikea,” Kurt says, even though he’s not really sure that’s what Finn meant. “Go ahead,” he concedes. 

“Yes!” Finn says, rolling up the sheepskin rug and putting it into the shopping cart.

Kurt looks ahead towards the bedroom area and makes a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Have at it, Finn.”

Finn’s face is suffused with childlike delight, and he hands the shopping list and pencil to Kurt. “Hold my list!”

“Sure,” Kurt says to the empty spot where Finn had been standing, and he looks down at the list for a moment before frowning. There’s plenty of aisle and bin numbers, but no notes about what is in each aisle and bin. Kurt sighs and shakes his head, then looks up to watch Finn winding his way through the store, still looking just as delighted, his arms now full of pillows, blankets, and what appears to be at least one bath mat. “I don’t know if this makes me doubt my sanity or makes my crush worse,” Kurt murmurs to himself. “Possibly both.” 

“Do we need curtains?” Finn shots from the other side of the room. 

“Shower or window?” Kurt replies. 

“Uh.” Finn leans down behind a display for a second before popping up again like a wildly enthusiastic oversized groundhog. “These are for showers.”

“It’s good to replace shower curtains regularly.” Kurt pauses, then smiles widely. “Because of fungus.”

“Awwww _Kuuuuurt_ ,” Finn whines from near the shower curtains. “No more fungus!”

“I’m just warning you,” Kurt protests. 

After a few more minutes of zigzagging between aisles, Finn returns with his armload of textiles, which is topped by a shower curtain that appears to depict a buffalo surrounded by falling water, plus a bath mat the same blue as the rain drops around the buffalo. 

“So?” Finn says. “What do you think? It matches! I got blue towels, too.”

“As long as you don’t insist on a buffalo print for the bathroom wall,” Kurt says almost absently, looking over the rest of the stack of textiles. “Did you find sheets and a bedspread? Is that what that is?” he asks, pointing to the middle of the stack. 

“I just got everything that was a nice kind of blue,” Finn confesses. “I figured you could tell me what stuff isn’t, like, _right_ and I’d put it back.”

“Oh my.” Kurt sighs. “Okay, let’s get started.” In the end, Finn has to pick between three bedspreads and put back half of the accent pillows, all while the two of them are stared at, mostly discreetly. 

“I didn’t think this would be so fun,” Finn admits as they start slowly pushing the shopping cart through the lamps section. “I thought it would be kinda—”

“Boring?” Kurt supplies, thought he’s not convinced that was the word Finn was going to use. 

“That, too,” Finn says sheepishly. “Do we need lamps?”

“We might want something for studying,” Kurt concedes. “Just don’t grab every single blue lamp.” 

“Maybe you should pick out the lamps.”

“Hmm, okay,” Kurt agrees, walking down the aisles of lamps. “I think you’d hit your head on some of these.” 

“That would suck,” Finn says. “Maybe we need soft lamps.”

“Or perhaps a lamp bright enough that it doesn’t have to sit on your desk?” Kurt says. “I don’t think most of the blue lamps will work, though.” Kurt spends a few more minutes looking over the lamps before picking out a large floor lamp. “Good?”

“I think it’ll fall over if bump into it, so we should probably put it somewhere that I can’t do that,” Finn says. 

“You could bolt it to the floor,” Kurt says. 

“I get to bolt things?” Finn asks, a little too eagerly for Kurt’s comfort.

“Or I will bolt it,” Kurt clarifies. “Have you ever used the wrenches from Ikea before, come to think of it?” he asks, trying to walk quickly through the framed art section. 

“Look at that one!” Finn says, pointing at a small framed picture of a fish leaping out of a fishbowl while a larger fish watches in a way that one can only imagine is judgmental. “It’s the same blue as the bathroom stuff.”

“We don’t need ill-advised fish activity on the wall, Finn,” Kurt says in what he hopes is a patient voice. “Look, we’re nearly at the aisles and bins.”

Finn grabs one of the fish pictures anyway as Kurt starts to turn way, sticking down the side of the shopping cart so it’s mostly buried beneath the bedding. Kurt hopes Finn doesn’t think he’s being sneaky, because if so, he’s the least successfully deceptive individual Kurt has ever met. 

“So which of these is which?” Kurt asks, gesturing at the list. 

“They’re whatever the number says they are,” Finn explains. 

“Finn?” Kurt says slowly. “Do you perhaps think I have the entirety of the store memorized?”

Finn’s face contorts into a look of deep confusion. “Uh. Yeah?”

“That’s incredibly flattering, I suppose, but I don’t actually know what any of these correspond to,” Kurt explains. “I’m also fairly sure I didn’t point out _this_ many things.” 

“I wrote down some of the stuff I liked,” Finn says. “And some of the stuff that I wasn’t sure what it was, and I wanted to ask you later.”

“Oh my.” Kurt looks down at the list and sighs. “Well, let’s begin, then. Do you want the cart with textiles or the one for the flat boxes?”

“Which one’s bigger?”

“The flat one _will_ be, once we add boxes to it.”

“I’ll push that one, then,” Finn says. 

“Have at it. Aisle two, first.” Kurt frowns at the paper. “Whatever is in bin sixteen.”

“Something big, I’m guessing,” Finn says, as he pushes the flat cart along behind Kurt. 

Kurt stops in front of bin, double-checking the list twice. “Finn? This is some sort of... wicker rocking chair?” 

“Oh, is that what it is?” Finn asks. “I couldn’t tell. I thought maybe a footstool or something.”

“Not only is it a rocking chair that doesn’t go with anything else, I think either of us would break it. Did you want to give it to someone’s little sister as a gift?”

“No, I just wanted you to tell me what it was, but you were already at the tables before I could ask.”

“Right.” Kurt takes a deep breath and marks that off the list. “Let’s see what’s next then.” 

They collect two items that Kurt actually intended to have on their list before the next one of Finn’s additions appears. Kurt stops in front of the bin and looks between Finn and the bin repeatedly, eyebrows raised. 

“I thought you could put your face stuff into some of them and I could put my vitamins and we could both have some drawers for hair stuff,” Finn explains. “I wasn’t sure how many you’d need. I only have one thing for hair.”

Kurt pulls out one of the larger drawers—which isn’t saying all that much, in his opinion—and shakes his head. “I don’t think you could fit two t-shirts in this drawer, even.” 

“I thought you might like it,” Finn says, looking and sounded dejected.

“It is unique,” Kurt offers. “And if we had both more room and more money, it would certainly be more possible.” He taps the price listed. “See?”

“I didn’t see how much it cost,” Finn answers defensively. “I’m _trying_ , okay?”

“I know.” Kurt sighs quietly, hoping Finn doesn’t hear it, and leads them to a few more bins before he stands in front of a large, cowhide-covered footstool. “This is a footstool. Covered in cowhide.”

“To go with our rug.” Finn frowns even more. “The one you said we couldn’t buy.”

“Right. Since we skipped the rug, I think we should skip the footstool, at least for now.” If Kurt had realized Finn actually liked the cowboy theme, he would have started with cowhide, maybe, but he just doesn’t want to go back and redo all the textiles. “If you need a footstool later, we can find one that works with the things we have chosen.” 

Finn shrugs and straightens out the boxes on his cart. Kurt marks through that line on the list and heads to the next bin, two aisles over. 

“For... the bathroom?” he asks Finn. 

Finn shrugs again. “It was the same blue as the other stuff, plus there’s two lockers.”

“True.” Kurt smiles, then makes himself tone it down a little before turning towards Finn. “I’ll let you take the top one, even.” 

“You like it?” Finn asks. “I picked out a thing that was right?”

“It’s a good idea,” Kurt says, nodding. “It should help tie everything together.” 

“Cool,” Finn says, sliding one of those boxes off the shelf and onto the cart. Kurt notices the small pleased smile on Finn’s face, and Kurt makes a mental note to set Finn loose in the small food area at the end. 

Everything else finds its way onto the cart eventually, and Kurt starts mentally tallying how much it will all cost. He adds just a few of the textile items to Finn’s cart and then hands Finn the cash from Burt. “Here, I’ll put the rest of this on the credit card,” Kurt says. “If we’re lucky, Dad won’t really pay attention to the date or how far from Lima we were.” 

“Still say we could’ve gotten tacos,” Finn says, as he shoves the money into his pocket. “I think we’ve got plenty.” 

“There’s a mini grocery store after you check out,” Kurt tells Finn, pushing his cart towards the checkout lines. “Though I don’t think Scandinavians are known for their tacos.” Finn goes to the line next to Kurt’s, and while Kurt is supervising the scanning, he sighs and shakes his head. The egg timer somehow found its way back into the cart, and Kurt really doesn’t want to explain to the person that he does not, in fact, need an egg timer. He decides he’ll use it to time Finn’s showers or something similar, and once everything is paid for, he pushes the cart towards the food area. 

“Did you know they have flower-flavored juice?” Finn asks when he sees Kurt. 

“Odd,” Kurt remarks. “Did you find anything you wanted to get?”

“Since we don’t have a cooler or anything, I guess we can’t get a tube of fish,” Finn says, leaning over into one of the refrigerated displays and squinting at a stack of large toothpaste-shaped tubes. 

“No, I suppose not,” Kurt agrees faintly. “Anything non-perishable, I should have said.”

“Or... what is this? Fish _poop_?” Finn sounds alarmed and backs away from the display. “Maybe we’ll just get some of those cookie things.”

“Cookies are good. Then we should probably get started back northward,” Kurt admits. “As it is, we may have to unload some of this after Dad’s at work tomorrow.”

Finn selects several different kinds of cookies, plus some bags of gummies and a few of chocolate, then goes back through the checkout quickly before rejoining Kurt by the carts. 

“Ready?” Kurt surveys their carts. “It’s going to take us at least fifteen minutes just to put it all in the Navigator.” 

“Yeah. It is getting kind of late, I guess,” Finn says. “Should we call and say we’re staying late for glee stuff?”

“It couldn’t hurt.” Kurt nods to himself. He had warned Mercedes he wouldn’t be in school, again, and not to let on to anyone. “No one should be calling our parents looking for us. Unless you’ve given out Carole’s number?”

“No way. I didn’t want anybody to call her and ask her where I am,” Finn says. “If, you know, people, certain people, were looking for me for some reason.”

Kurt pushes his cart towards the elevator and presses the button on it. “I think we’re thinking of the same certain people,” he says dryly.

“I didn’t name anybody’s name,” Finn says. He composes his face into an expression that’s an odd mixture of innocent and serious. Kurt finds it oddly endearing, and he’s thankful for the elevator doors opening before he responds in some inappropriate manner. 

“Did you really pick out an anti-fungal bath mat?” Kurt can’t help asking as they ride the elevator. 

“I got one of those stick-on things for the bottom of the shower,” Finn replies. “It said it would keep shower funk from happening.”

“We can but hope,” Kurt says just as the elevator doors open. It does take about twenty minutes to secure everything in the rear of the Navigator and return the carts to the appropriate place. He turns the key and then turns down the volume, looking at Finn. “You should call your mom now.” 

Finn nods and pulls out his phone, calling Carole and putting the phone up to his ear. “Hey, Mom. Yeah, I’m fine. No, we’re just staying after for some, uh, extended glee club stuff.” He gives Kurt a thumbs up, nodding his head. “Yeah, well, Rachel said we have to and you know how nobody’ll tell her no. Okay, I will. Yeah, you and Burt have a nice time.” He puts the phone back in his pocket. “She and your dad are going to a movie.”

“Phew.” Kurt exhales exaggeratedly. “We’ll be fine, then.” He puts the Navigator back on the interstate, trying to decide if he should take the opportunity to actually make Finn talk again. “We should eat in Lima, though. Rachel wouldn’t let anyone take a dinner break.”

“She’d let us take a break to rehydrate, at least,” Finn says. “So that’s good.”

“We’ll stop and get a pop at some point,” Kurt says before he can stop himself. If he weren’t in such close proximity, he’d start muttering to himself about how stupid it is to keep comparing himself with Rachel, especially within Finn’s hearing, but Kurt consoles himself with the thought that perhaps Finn didn’t notice or realize. 

“Okay, that’s cool,” Finn says. “If we get hungry on the way, I have Swedish cookies. You want one?” He reaches behind his seat and then holds up a box. “Am I allowed to eat cookies in here?”

“Yes, please, two, and yes, as long as you agree to assist with the weekly vacuuming.”

“There’s a weekly vacuuming?” Finn opens the box of cookies and hands two to Kurt before popping a whole cookie into his mouth and crunching on it. “Oh, these are really good.”

“Yes, and that is why.” Kurt sighs slightly. “Vacuuming, cleaning of the dashboard and doors, then washing the exterior. I only scrub the hubcaps every other week. In the winter, sometimes it’s just the interior cleaning that gets done.”

“Wow. Maybe I’ll just get a horse or, like, a sled dog team or something,” Finn says, as he starts crunching another cookie. “Sounds like less work.”

“My Navigator doesn’t produce fecal matter,” Kurt points out. “A horse or dogs would require considerable ‘mucking out’, I think.” Kurt wrinkles his nose. “Let’s discuss something else.” 

“How are we gonna get all this furniture put together without Mom and Burt figuring out we drove to Cincinnati?” Finn asks. 

“If they’re at a movie, we just have to keep them out until it’s all assembled.” Kurt frowns. “And perhaps take the boxes to school to recycle.” 

“Oh, crap, we didn’t get any sheet music!” Finn says. “Anyway, Mom said they’ve be back for late dinner.”

“We could keep the door locked most of the weekend?” Kurt suggests. “We did discuss skipping Monday as well. We could look for sheet music this weekend or Monday.” 

“And we can build our furniture on Monday after they leave,” Finn agrees. “We aren’t painting or anything, right?”

“I don’t think that’s something we should bother with, no.” Kurt gives Finn a sideways glance, still not sure if he should bring up their earlier conversation. 

“Good, ‘cause I’m not good at painting. Mom had me help her repaint her bathroom one time, because I’m tall and I can reach, but I got it all over the ceiling and in my hair,” Finn says. “She had to get a stepstool and paint over the spots on the ceiling.”

“That’s... something I’ll keep in mind, then,” Kurt says. “Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t put back the fish print you tried to sneak into the cart.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Finn replies. “But why’s it good?”

“You’re really not very sneaky, Finn,” Kurt says patiently, trying not to sound too affectionate. “And it will add color without painting required.”

“I could be sneaky if I had to be,” Finn insists.

“I found the egg timer, too.”

“I don’t know anything about any egg timer. You said we didn’t need an egg timer.”

Kurt laughs in spite of his best efforts, clamping his free hand over his mouth. He needs Finn to stop being adorable. He calms down and shakes his head at Finn. “I’m going to use it to time your showers.”

“Yeah, well if we _did_ have an egg timer that somebody who isn’t me snuck into the cart, I’d use it to time how long it takes for you to get ready in the morning,” Finn counters. 

“I’ve never denied that perfection takes an investment of time,” Kurt says. “What would you do with that knowledge?” 

“I don’t know. Use it as an example of... something?”

“An example of how you could increase your own time investment to your benefit?” Kurt says, almost archly, then bites his lip. He doesn’t _really_ know what flirting is, not to have someone flirt with him, but it almost feels like they are, and it’s confusing. 

“Wait, are you timing me in the shower to see if I take too long or not long enough?” Finn demands suddenly. 

“Both. Either.” Kurt shrugs. “I mean, clearly, just three or four minutes would not be long enough for you to be adequately clean.” 

“I know I’m in there for at least five or six,” Finn says. He crosses his arms with a dramatic “hmph!”

“And starting now, I can confirm that self-report,” Kurt says, barely forcing himself not to smile too widely at Finn. 

“Only if nobody takes that egg timer,” Finn says. “Somebody could take it.”

“Somebody doesn’t know which bag the egg timer is in,” Kurt says loftily. 

“Somebody must have snuck it into the cart to begin with, I guess somebody can find it and sneak it out of the bag,” Finn counters.

“Somebody is only successful at fifty percent of his attempts to sneak so far. I think those are good odds for me.” 

“Somebody... somebody...” Finn huffs and squints for a moment. “Somebody could probably be way sneaky if he had to be,” he finishes.

“Somebody might not want to waste that effort on an egg timer, then,” Kurt points out, his smile widening in spite of his best attempts to contain it. 

“Oh, now it’s a matter of principles,” Finn retorts. “Somebody might have a whoooooole lot of principles.”

A laugh escapes Kurt, and he shakes his head. “Somebody’s just going to be chagrined when his efforts fail,” he warns, sing-songy. 

“Somebody’s gonna cha-grin when his efforts win,” Finn sing-songs back at Kurt. 

“It’s a losing effort,” Kurt reiterates. “I feel badly for poor somebody.”

“Somebody’s doing just fine, thanks. He doesn’t need your pity.”

Finn is grinning hugely, almost beaming, and Kurt can _feel_ the internalized sigh that still manages to be completely lovesick. He feels like he and Finn are having a moment, just like in romantic comedies and Rachel’s overinflated tales of her time with Jesse, and he doesn’t want the moment to end. Kurt knows his answering smile is too big and too happy, but he turns towards Finn for a few moments anyway, his eyes flickering between Finn and the road. 

“Sympathy, not pity,” Kurt finally says. “I feel _badly_ for somebody, not _sorry_ for him.” 

“Well, I guess we’ll just see how badly you feel for somebody once he’s stolen that egg timer,” Finn says. “You know what he might do with that egg timer, Kurt? You know what somebody might do?”

“I can’t begin to imagine the nefarious things,” Kurt manages to get out. 

“He might time how long you _cry_ ,” Finn says, somehow striking the right note between ridiculous and cartoon villain. “When you’re crying over your stolen egg timer.”

Kurt presses one hand flat against his chest, partially in keeping with their overly dramatic discussion, and partially to keep himself from reaching towards Finn. He’s almost certain that if they were in a gay romantic comedy, the timing would be right to pull over on the shoulder, the music would crescendo, and he and Finn would kiss, but he’s very aware that they aren’t in a gay romantic comedy, or anything gay or romantic at all, so he tries to focus on the comedic. 

“I don’t know know how I’ll go on,” he says theatrically. “Somebody has stolen my cherished egg timer.” 

“You can fall on your new Ikea bed and cry,” Finn says, then drops his voice into a comically evil whisper. “ _I’ll time you while you cry._ ”

Kurt tries for about ten seconds not to laugh before he gives in, his laughter growing louder quickly. “Finn!” he finally wheezes. 

“Wow, Kurt,” Finn says, in an impressively deadpan voice. “You’re kind of driving all over the road. Do you need to pull over or something?” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “I could time how long it takes.”

Kurt shakes his head, still laughing near uncontrollably. “Evil.” 

“I’m not evil,” Finn insists. “I’m awesome. I shopped with you at Ikea, like, _all_ day. I bet there’s a special certificate I could get for that.”

Kurt forces himself to breathe deeply for a few moments before he can respond. “Merit badge,” he counters finally. 

“You’ll have to sew it onto my jacket for me, though, ‘cause that’s way outside my skill set,” Finn says. 

The question on the tip of Kurt’s tongue is to ask which jacket, but that makes his mind quickly flash to Finn’s letter jacket, the football team, and the rest of the outside world. It makes it easier to calm the rest of the way down, and he flashes Finn a smaller smile than before. “Small sewing jobs are free,” he says lightly. 

“Cool,” Finn says. “I’ll remember that the next time I tear up a pair of my jeans fist-fighting Puck in the hall.”

“You could avoid fist-fights in the hall instead?” Kurt suggests. 

“People could avoid giving me reasons to fist-fight them,” Finn says.

Kurt shakes his head. “Such a boy,” he mutters under his breath. It doesn’t really help much, though, considering he _likes_ boys, and the boy sitting next to him in particular. “Finn?” he says after a few moments, raising his voice back to a normal volume. 

“I already told you, somebody’ll wait until you don’t expect it,” Finn says, laughing. “I can’t tell you when!”

“Not that,” Kurt says, both of his hands on the steering wheel, and he looks straight ahead. “Can I—can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, sure,” Finn answers. He doesn’t sound bothered by the idea, at least. 

“In general, not just about—” Kurt makes a gesture, trying to encompass all they discussed earlier. “Why does it matter so much to you, what people who aren’t even your friends say about you? I know you were afraid of being in glee club for a bit because of them. Why?” 

Kurt can see Finn shrugging out of the corner of his eye. “I’m not supposed to like that kind of stuff. It doesn’t _go_ , you know? With the football thing.”

“There’s four of you who do both activities,” Kurt points out. “I just don’t understand why you care about the opinion of people who otherwise don’t interact with you.” 

“You know how people can get, Kurt,” Finn says. “The slushies and the dumpsters. I mean, Puck locked a dude in port-a-potty on, like, two different occasions. And come on, you know what kind of stuff they used to do to your house. I know _I_ know what they used to do, ‘cause, well.” He shrugs again.

“I don’t think even Karofsky and Azimio could get you into a dumpster, Finn,” Kurt says. “I think Puck would let you lock him in a port-a-potty, right now, and I know that you have people who would keep you from suffering the consequences of their opinions. That’s really not what I’m asking, though. I want to know why their opinion matters, independent of anything they might do.” 

“It feels like shit to have people hate you ‘cause of something you can’t do anything about,” Finn says. “I know you know that, too. I know I made you feel like shit plenty of times.”

“They’re not going to matter,” Kurt points out, just as he did a few days earlier. “The people that I care about are the ones who can hurt me. I never had to come home to my dad saying anything about me. The few friends I had didn’t hate me.” He shrugs. “It isn’t _fun_ , but I have to make myself not care what someone like Azimio thinks.” 

“Maybe it’s easier for you to not care,” Finn says softly. “You know you’re better than all of them, right? You say that all the time. Not everybody knows that.”

Kurt chuckles bitterly. “If I were completely convinced, I wouldn’t have to repeat it.” 

“You are, though. Better than them. Better than us.” Kurt glances over at Finn, who is staring out the window. 

“I have to tell myself that so that I can get out of Lima,” Kurt explains. “That’s what I try to focus on. Of course I want to enjoy the time I’m here, but I have to believe I can leave, you know?”

“Yeah,” Finn says, nodding his head. “At least you’re honest about who you are. You know people’ll give you shit about it, and you keep on dressing how you dress and acting how you act anyway. That’s gotta be better than whatever it is the rest of us are doing, Kurt.”

Kurt blinks, trying to make himself focus on the overall theme on the conversation, but the part of his brain focused on fashion overtakes his mouth first. “Are you saying that you would want to wear something other than polo shirts?” he blurts.

“Uhhh...” Finn turns and looks at Kurt with the squinty look. “ _That’s_ what you got out of all of that?”

“Sorry!” Kurt winces. “I tried not to focus on that, I really did.”

“What’s wrong with my shirts?”

“Um, maybe we should shelve that conversation until later.” Kurt eyes Finn from the side. “Going back to what you were saying, I suppose I just wish all of us in glee club could be honest about who they are. Is that really too much to hope for?”

Finn doesn’t answer immediately, and Kurt reviews the conversation mentally as Finn stays quiet, staring out the window, and the miles roll by. He’s as certain as he can be that he didn’t push Finn too far, certainly not about the subject of Kurt being gay. He decides to wait, not turning up the radio as Finn obviously thinks about something. 

“I had sex with Santana,” Finn says without looking away from the window.

Kurt raises an eyebrow, even though Finn likely won’t see it. “You and, according to rumor, half of the school.” 

“It wasn’t what I expected.”

“I—what did you expect?” Kurt asks, not sure what Finn’s trying to say.

Finn sighs quietly and leans his head against the window. “To like it.”

Kurt isn’t really sure how to respond, and he fights the urge to reach across the vehicle and pat Finn’s shoulder or knee. “Perhaps... it was too mechanical?” Kurt offers. 

“Maybe,” Finn says.

“What did she think?” Kurt asks cautiously. 

“She wanted room service, but they didn’t have it. She made me take her to a restaurant to get a burger.”

Kurt can feel his mouth open unattractively, and he forces himself to close his mouth with a snap. He remains quiet for another mile before responding. “Perhaps it was because you didn’t have strong feelings for her?” 

“Yeah, I mean, that’s probably part of it, I guess,” Finn says. “It was just...”

“Empty?” Kurt asks, because that was how it felt when he attempted to enjoy kissing Brittany. Just empty. 

Finn startles, glancing over quickly at Kurt before looking out the window again. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s—yeah.”

Kurt nods understandingly. He doesn’t want to push too fast or draw the wrong conclusions, but his mind is putting a few things together. He lets a few moments pass before looking over at Finn, a relatively normal smile on his face. “Do you want to stop above Troy for some pop?”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Finn says. “Thanks.”

“Did you have any ideas for Regionals?” Kurt asks, deciding to revisit their more serious discussion after they stop for pop. 

“Kinda,” Finn says. “I think we should stick with what we know.”

“Such as?” Kurt counters. “We all have such differing tastes at times.”

“No Miley Cyrus,” Finn says. “And I know you and Rachel really like the Broadway stuff, but the rest of us don’t.”

Kurt stifles a laugh. “No, no Miley Cyrus. And most of the well-known Broadway songs aren’t the best for an entire group, sadly.” 

“And maybe no boy band stuff.”

“The girls would walk out in protest,” Kurt points out. “Perhaps nothing aimed only at a narrow range of voices.” 

“Nothing with makeup,” Finn says, then stops and looks at Kurt. “No makeup on _me_ , anyway.”

“No Kiss, then,” Kurt says mildly, putting on his turn signal for the upcoming exit. 

“No Kiss in full makeup, at least.”

“We want the focus to be our voices, not our costuming or makeup,” Kurt agrees, deciding to head towards the McDonald’s for their stop. He parks and climbs out, pausing on the sidewalk. Finn gets out of the Navigator and steps up onto the sidewalk beside Kurt. “I think I’m going to get an apple pie as well,” Kurt confesses.

“I’ll get _two_ apple pies,” Finn says. 

Kurt thinks it’s quite possible that Finn weighs twice as much as Kurt, but he doesn’t say that out loud, opening the door and heading to the counter to order. They take their trays and sit down, and Kurt resumes their previous conversation. “Maybe we should do a mash-up,” he says, half-jokingly. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Finn says. “We’ll just mash-up Kiss and Lady Gaga, right? Then we don’t have to learn anything new.”

“Mr. Schuester wouldn’t go for that, though. We have to learn something, remember?” Kurt says, putting his straw into his pop and taking a long sip. 

“Well, each of us would learn half of something new,” Finn says. “Plus, we’d learn how to work together.”

“I’ll let you try to sell him on that one,” Kurt concedes. “It’s too bad we couldn’t find three artists who occasionally collaborated, and do one song from each of them.” 

“Maybe we can look it up online when we get home,” Finn says. 

Kurt nods. “Good idea.” He decides not to comment on Finn actually referring to it as home, turning to his apple pie with a very small smile. After they finish, they head back to the Navigator, and Kurt turns the key—with no result. He frowns and tries again, hearing only a faint click. 

“What’s up?” Finn asks. “Are we out of gas?”

“No.” Kurt gestures to the gas gauge. “I think it’s the alternator.” He turns the key two more times, listening closely, then shakes his head. “Alternator, and while I could probably get it in before dark, if we found one...” he trails off. “I don’t know that all of it can come together tonight.”

“Crap. Do we need to call Burt? He and my mom are gonna be so pissed!” Finn says. “Shit!”

“The only thing Dad could do is find the closest supplier,” Kurt admits. “And yes, they probably will be.” He frowns. “Mercedes would cover for me, if I said I was having a sleepover with her. Is there anyone who could cover for you?”

“Well, Puck kinda owes me about fifty cover stories,” Finn says.

“Call him,” Kurt orders, pulling out his own phone to furiously text Mercedes. 

Finn nods and calls Puck. “Dude, I’m cashing in one of those IOUs. Yeah. No, ‘cause it’s none of your business.” He nods again. “Kurt. Yeah, Kurt. Is that a problem?” Finn rolls his eyes and puts his hand up and does the talky-hand that suggests Puck is a gossipy old woman. “Well, if my mom or anybody asks, I’m at your place. We cool? Awesome. Thanks.” Finn ends the call and pockets his phone. “We’re cool.”

Kurt holds up his own phone. “Mercedes has me covered. I’ll talk to the manager here about leaving it here overnight.” He sighs and looks up and down the street. “Well.” There’s a motel across the street, but he’s not sure how to mention it. 

“Yeah. I guess we’re sleeping in the car, unless Mercedes would come pick us up or something,” Finn says, looking at the boxes stacked in the back of the Navigator. “Wish we didn’t have all that furniture back there now.”

“We can cover them with one of the bedspreads, at least,” Kurt says almost absently. “There is the Knights Inn across the street,” he adds tentatively, not looking at Finn directly. 

“Isn’t Burt gonna figure it out if we use the card, though?” Finn asks. 

“How much cash do you have left from the six hundred?” Kurt asks. “Or on your own?”

“I think there’s still like thirty-five from Burt, plus I’ve got another twenty and some ones.”

“We can probably afford one room, then,” Kurt says, mentally adding his own cash to the total. “It’d be better than sleeping in here.”

“Just about anything's better than that,” Finn agrees. “Can we eat dinner?”

“It appears that within walking distance we have Bob Evans and Red Lobster,” Kurt comments, climbing back out of the Navigator to put the bedspread over the boxes and get his messenger bag. “We should get it to go and go to the, ah, hotel.”

“Yeah, before it gets totally dark and we get mugged,” Finn says. “And we need to call our parents.”

“Yes.” Kurt shoulders his bag and pulls out his phone. “I’ll go first. If I’m lucky, Dad’s still in the movie, and I can leave a message.” He presses Burt’s name and listens to the phone ring twice. He starts to give Finn a thumbs up when Burt answers. 

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi, Dad.” Kurt takes a little breath before continuing. “Glee club went over a lot more than we thought it would, so we all had a quick dinner, and now Mercedes is dragging me off to a sleepover.” 

“No time to come home and say hello to your old man?” Burt says almost teasingly. 

“Not tonight, Dad. We’ll catch up this weekend?”

“Sure, kid. Have fun with Mercedes.” 

“I will, Dad. Bye.” Kurt ends the call with a long exhale, looking over at Finn. “Before you call Carole, are we walking towards Bob Evans or Red Lobster?”

"Either one's cool by me," Finn says. He stares at his phone with a dubious expression on his face. "I'd better go ahead and do this."

“Red Lobster,” Kurt decides, nodding. “We’ll walk while you do it.” 

Finn nods in response, phone already to his ear. "Hey, Mom! Yeah, everything's great, just glee ran late and Puck's still trying to make me let him make it up to me. Yeah. Well, I'm gonna stay at his place if that's—oh, Kurt did, too?" Finn makes a face at Kurt, mouthing 'oops'. "I know, but we'll have dinner next week, okay? Alright. Love you, too." Finn pockets his phone again, turning to Kurt with a smug-looking smile as they walk.

“What has you so pleased with yourself?” Kurt asks archly.

"Better watch your egg timer, is all I'm saying, because I am totally sneaky," Finn declares.

“Are you going to time how long Red Lobster takes to make our to-go order?” Kurt asks.

"Nope. You'll never know when the timing will start," Finn says.

“Now it sounds like a bad horror film,” Kurt decides, opening the door to Red Lobster and holding it open. Finn walks through the door, giving Kurt the squinty look again.

" _Egg Timer III_ was way scarier than the first and second ones," Finn says. 

“Everyone knows the sequel is usually a pale imitation of the genius original, created solely to wring out more money from something the original writers never intended to have take wing as a franchise.” Kurt smiles brightly at the host. “We’d like to place a to-go order!”

"I think you think about that way too much," Finn says. He accepts one of the menus the host hands them, and asks, "Do we get cheddar biscuits while we wait?"

The host nods wearily, and Finn turns his attention to the menu. He nudges Kurt with his elbow and points to the shrimp trio, raising his eyebrows expectantly at Kurt, like Kurt should know what he means.

“You like shrimp?” Kurt hazards. “You think we need a third person stuck in Piqua to enjoy that dish with us?”

"No! I think if I get three kinds of shrimp, and you get three, we could try all the kinds," Finn says. "Or we could have doubles of our favorite. I like the coconut kind."

“Scampi,” Kurt admits. “That would work.”

"Let's get them to give us a big thing of the biscuits!"

“If we’re lucky, the motel room will have a microwave,” Kurt muses. “We should get an extra side, in case we’re hungry later and don’t want to walk across I-75 to the Waffle House I saw on the other side of it.”

"Dessert, too," Finn says. "You pick one and I'll pick one."

Kurt nods, and they give their order to the world-weary host, who looks like he would rather be doing anything other than working at the Red Lobster in Piqua, Ohio. While they wait for their food, Finn drifts over to the lobster tank and taps the glass.

"Poor lobsters," Finn says, tapping the glass again while making the kind of noises usually reserved for calling cats. "Hey, lobsters."

“We can’t conduct guerilla lobster action a la a celebrity, Finn,” Kurt says quietly. “And right now, the lobsters don’t know what’s going to happen.”

"I'm glad I'm not a lobster," Finn says, with a final sympathetic tap on the glass before their food arrives, neatly packaged and accompanied by a paper sack full of cheddar biscuits.

“I think most people are glad not to be lobsters,” Kurt agrees as they leave the Red Lobster and head towards the stoplight and its crosswalk. “At least the Knights Inn looks as though it will have a vacancy.”

"Now I'm thinking about that horror movie thing," Finn admits. "It's not as funny right now."

“It’s called the Knights Inn, not the Bates Motel,” Kurt says, shrugging. “I’m more lamenting that we don’t have any fresh clothes. Well, I have an extra shirt in my bag, but it’s just a plain t-shirt.”

"We could go to the Walmart and get something else," Finn says.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at Finn just as the light finally turns. “Remember what we were discussing earlier?” he asks as they start to cross. “I’m not sure I could find anything I would want to wear, at Walmart.”

"Fine, you can be fashionable and dirty, and I'll be lame and clean," Finn says. 

“It’s not that you’ll be _lame_ ,” Kurt says. “Not precisely. But it is possible to wear things that fit and aren’t cut like a box, you know.” 

"Beggars live in boxes," Finn says. "And you know what beggars can't be? Choosers."

“But we aren’t exactly beggars, unless you think this is a cardboard box.” Kurt eyes the motel with a little disdain, but opens the door to the lobby and walks inside. Finn dings the little bell on the desk, even though the clerk is right there.

"Can I help you?" she ask, not really sounding like she cares if she can or not.

"Yes. We need a room," Finn says, straightening to his full height. "With a microwave."

"Two fulls, a queen, or a king?" the clerk asks. Finn looks at Kurt.

Kurt looks at Finn almost incredulously. “I’ll let you handle this,” Kurt says stiffly, drifting to the side to look at the brochures advertising western Ohio’s finest tourist attractions. 

"Probably two fulls," Finn says.

"Smoking alright?"

"Uh. No, smoking is bad for you," Finn says.

"Smoking _room_."

"Oh, then, uh. Still no, I guess."

"Gonna be a king or queen then," the clerks says. "King's got a whirlpool tub."

"Kurt!" Finn whispers sharply. "This got more complicated!"

Kurt turns towards Finn and sighs helplessly. “Unless you’re expecting one of us to sleep in the whirlpool tub, we either have to share a bed or sleep in a room that smells like cigarettes. It’s up to you.”

Finn hesitates for another moment before he tells the clerk, "King."

Kurt studiously doesn’t look directly at Finn, choosing to focus on pulling out additional cash for Finn to use towards the bill, and then he turns to the brochures again, picking one up for Fort Recovery, which is apparently a state park near the Indiana border. Once Finn has the key, Kurt walks towards the door, still without looking at Finn. 

"This isn't that different from sharing a room," Finn says, perhaps a bit too bracingly.

“I suppose not,” Kurt agrees, following Finn towards their room. “What time is check-out? If I can get the alternator replaced before check-out, I can use the whirlpool tub afterwards."

"Eleven," Finn says. "They have some kind of breakfast, but I don't know if it's safe to eat it."

“In the morning, we might actually want Waffle House,” Kurt points out. “Or Bob Evans. Dad won’t expect me home before lunch, so at least we have plenty of time in the morning.” Kurt looks back across the street, past the McDonald’s and the Red Lobster, and starts. “Ooh, that might actually be a _mall_.” 

“There, see? We won’t go to Walmart,” Finn says. They walk down the hallway to their room, which is situated at the far end of the hallway. Finn slides the keycard through the lock and opens the door, and they’ve hit by a wave of icy cold air. “The air conditioner works,” Finn adds, somewhat unnecessarily. 

“So it does,” Kurt agrees. He steps into the room and looks around. “At least there’s a table we can eat at.” 

“I hope the shrimp’s still hot,” Finn says. He goes through the room and flips on all the lights. “That’s a big bed.”

“Yes,” Kurt says matter-of-factly, pulling out the food and putting it on the table. “And the food does seem to still be hot.” 

“I can’t believe we’re getting away with this!” Finn says, rubbing his hands together like a supervillain. Kurt is beginning to suspect that with the television will come a great deal of Cartoon Network in his future, based on the day’s events. 

“Now you’ve cursed us,” Kurt points out. 

Finn’s hands drop to the table, and Finn looks utterly appalled with himself as he starts to furiously knock on the tabletop. “Sorry! Knock on wood! Knock on wood!”

“Let’s just eat,” Kurt suggests, “and then we can charge our phones and try to find a nearby auto parts supplier.” 

“Did you want any of the coconut shrimp? I can just push all the scampi into your box,” Finn says. “Oh, cheddar biscuits. We need the biscuits.”

“It’s good we got an entire bag, and no, you can have all of the coconut.” Kurt picks up half of the bacon-wrapped shrimp and moves it over to Finn’s box. 

“You’re the best!” Finn exclaims, digging into his shrimp with gusto. 

Kurt blinks once, then shrugs. “Well, thank you,” he says, before starting to eat his own shrimp. His impression the other day has more evidence for it, he supposes: when Finn’s stomach is happy, the rest of him is happy. 

“I love shrimp,” Finn says. “I could eat shrimp every day.” 

“You should consider relocating to the Gulf Coast,” Kurt remarks. 

Finn pops the tails off his coconut shrimp and lines them up around the edge of his box lid. “Is that where they grow the shrimp?”

“It’s one of the places where they catch it, yes. Didn’t you watch _Forrest Gump_?”

“Yeah, but that was Alabama, not Florida,” Finn says. 

“Right,” Kurt says between bites. “The part of Alabama that’s coastal.” 

“Weird.” Finn side-eyes Kurt’s last bacon-wrapped shrimp. “You gonna eat that one?”

“There’s still more biscuits,” Kurt points out, because while stomach-happy Finn is an overall happy Finn, Kurt does, in fact, plan to eat the last bacon-wrapped shrimp. 

Finn makes a pathetic attempt at mustering up a pouty face, which Kurt finds endearing enough that he almost caves before gathering his resolve and spearing the shrimp with his fork. Finn sighs loudly, then shifts his attention to the smaller dessert boxes.

“Since I’m done first, that means I can eat both the desserts,” he announces.

“I have a fork in my hand,” Kurt says. “And you have no idea what I might have in my bag.” 

“Yeah, but the fork’s just plastic, and you aren’t really gonna stab me,” Finn says, reaching for the boxes. 

“One of them is cheesecake,” Kurt warns, his hand stretching towards Finn’s hands. “You don’t know about me and cheesecake, Finn Hudson.” 

“What’s that? You want me to have all the cheesecake?” Finn asks, grabbing both dessert boxes. “Gosh, you sure are nice, Kurt.”

“I could leave you in Piqua,” Kurt threatens, standing up and swiping at the boxes. 

“Yeah, I’ll let you explain to my mom and Burt,” Finn says, standing up and holding the dessert boxes up high in the air. “I’m just trying to hand you the dessert, Kurt. Why won’t you take the box?”

“Dad will understand when I mention cheesecake,” Kurt says, eyeing the bed and the chair and trying to decide which will give him the necessary height. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.” He picks the chair and climbs in it, eyebrows raised. 

Finn takes a step backward, away from the chair. “Don’t you want your cheesecake?” he asks. 

“You know the old commercial about what would you do for a Klondike bar?” Kurt asks, before lunging off the chair and pushing his shoulder into Finn’s chest. Finn doesn’t lower his arms to catch Kurt’s weight, though, still holding the dessert boxes aloft, and Kurt’s momentum sends them both hurtling to the floor.

Finn hits the ground with an almost understated “Oof,” and Kurt lands on top of him, noticing that the dessert boxes are still held aloft, virtually undisturbed. Kurt notes, thankfully, that he didn’t end up straddling Finn, though Finn did provide a decent landing pad of sorts.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks after he catches his breath. 

“I saved the cheesecake,” Finn replies in a pained wheeze. 

“My hero,” Kurt says, and then decides to seize the opportunity to further distract Finn and finally attain the cheesecake. He props himself up on one hand, moving his legs so he can spring up quickly after he acts. He runs his other hand through Finn’s hair, grinning. “My hero,” he repeats, smacking his lips on Finn’s forehead while he grabs the cheesecake box, then leaps up, still grinning. 

Finn stays on the ground, his arms and the other box still in the air. “No problem,” he says quietly.

“Do you think they have anything good on the television?” Kurt says after a few beats too many. “Or, well, now that I know there’s a mall...” he trails off, because his willingness to leave the room _has_ substantially increased. 

“I might just stay here. The floor’s nice.”

“It probably has ground-in dirt,” Kurt says, picking up his fork and opening the cheesecake box. “I don’t think they have invested heavily in their vacuums here.” 

“No, I’m good. I’m fine down here.”

“Hmm.” Kurt eats his cheesecake slowly, glancing at the clock. All of auto repair places are likely to be closed, meaning he should wait and call first thing in the morning, but there is still plenty of evening remaining. He’s not sure if he pushed too far; he’s seen Finn horsing around with the other guys in similar ways, but Kurt is acutely aware he’s not really like all of the other guys. 

“Do you have stuff for headaches in your bag?” Finn asks. 

“Unless Mercedes swiped it, yes,” Kurt replies, setting down his box and looking through his bag. “Oh, I forgot I had these in here.” He pulls out a pair of shorts leftover from some sort of athletic endeavour—he’s not sure if it was football or Cheerios—and sets them to the side. “Handy, though. T-shirt, phone charger, and, yes. Ibuprofen.” He hands Finn the bottle. “They aren’t the liquigels, though.” 

“Trade you,” Finn says, shaking the other dessert box.

“The ibuprofen’s free of charge. And there’s no way I’m giving up the cheesecake.” 

“I don’t want your cheesecake. I just don’t want to smush my cake when I get up.”

“So less of a trade and more of a ‘hold this, please’?” Kurt asks, taking the box in one hand.

“Now you give me the ibuprofen,” Finn prompts. “And I’ll take some of those before I get up. That’s why it’s a trade.”

“You might find it easier to take them sitting up,” Kurt points out, releasing the bottle into Finn’s hand. 

“My head hurts, though, and if I sit up it’ll hurt more,” Finn says. 

Kurt raises an eyebrow. “It will?” 

“Yeah. That’s why you lie down if your head hurts.”

“I...see.” Kurt shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Finn shakes four ibuprofen into his palm while still lying on the ground, then puts them in his mouth and swallows them dry, grimacing. He slowly pushes himself up into a sitting position, then he gets to his feet, groaning a little. “You’re heavier than you look.”

“I think I’m going to attempt to take that as a compliment,” Kurt announces, taking another bite of cheesecake. 

“You don’t look like you weigh very much,” Finn says. He sits in his chair again and retrieves his box of cake, opening it. “Hey, it didn’t get scrambled!”

“You did, in fact, save dessert.” Kurt scoops up his second-to-last bite of cheesecake. “Thankfully.”

“Well, you’re the one who knocked me over,” Finn points out. “So if it got smushed or scrambled, it would kinda be your fault, pretty much.”

“No, no. I had to resort to those tactics because you were trying to keep me from that which is rightfully mine.” 

Finn shrugs. “Stuff’s better when you have to work for it.”

“Hmm.” Kurt thoughtfully considers the last bite before putting in his mouth and chewing it slowly. He shakes his head as he swallows. “No, not always.” 

“No?” Finn puts almost half his cake into his mouth in one large scoop. 

“An A’s better when you didn’t have to study for hours to get it, for one.” 

“Yeah, well I don’t make a lot of A’s,” Finn says. “But my B’s feel pretty good.”

“Sleep, too,” Kurt offers. “Sleep’s better when you don’t have insomnia.”

“I dunno. Sleep after a bunch of days of not being able to sleep? That feels pretty damn good,” Finn argues. 

“But it’s even nicer if you don’t have the days preceding it, I think.” 

“Wins feel better if the competition’s better,” Finn says. “You can’t argue about that.”

“I have no basis for comparison,” Kurt admits, shrugging slightly. “I have no idea if that was stiff competition or not for football, and we’ve only won one competition with glee club.” He busies himself with the empty cheesecake box and fork, not looking up at Finn while he thinks about competitions of sorts that he’s lost—‘Defying Gravity’, for one, and the ‘competition’ with Rachel for Finn himself, even if Rachel didn’t win Finn for a very long span of time.

“Well, like when we won that football game ‘cause of your field goal,” Finn suggests.

“Were they a good team? I don’t know,” Kurt points out. 

“Every team was better than we were.”

Kurt shrugs. “But since I wasn’t aware, it didn’t really impact my perception of the win.” Kurt stands up and throws the cheesecake box away. “I don’t have that many wins to count.” 

“We’ll have to get you some wins, then,” Finn says. “We’ve got Regionals coming up.”

“Sheer force of will to defeat Vocal Adrenaline?” Kurt asks, turning towards Finn and smiling slightly. 

“No, we’ll win because we’re working hard and we’re better,” Finn says. “No two ways about it.” He puts his plastic fork into his empty cake box and shoots it like a basketball towards the trashcan. It hits the edge and bounces onto the floor. “Not my sport,” Finn says cheerfully.

“Sheer force of will,” Kurt repeats with a nod, smiling more widely. Kurt picks up the remote and turns on the television. “I have no idea what’s on on a Friday night.” 

Finn stands up and then flops onto the bed. “Look for something with a car chase.”

“Probably not on CNBC,” Kurt mutters, flipping through the channels. “Probably no car chase on A&E, either.” 

“Oh! Go back, go back!”

“Did I miss a car chase?” Kurt asks, going back down the channels. 

“No, I saw tacos!” Finn says. “Go back!”

“Oh.” Kurt goes back more slowly. “La Cocina Especial,” Kurt reads off the screen. “Finn, it’s a Spanish-language cooking show.” 

“Yeah, but tacos,” Finn says. “Don’t those look good?”

The tacos do look good, but the show is hosted by a woman speaking rapid Spanish with no subtitles. That doesn’t stop Finn from repositioning himself on the bed, so he’s lying on his stomach, his head propped up on his hands, to watch the show closely. 

“Can you understand any of what she’s saying?” Kurt asks, wondering if Mr. Schuester has in fact somehow managed to teach Finn and the other Spanish students knowledge that’s applicable outside the classroom. 

“I think she said egg,” Finn says. “Might have been eight, though.”

“I’ll take that as a no?” Kurt says. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Okay. Leave the remote, though.”

Kurt picks up the shorts and t-shirt from his bag and heads into the bathroom along with three hangers. If he hangs up his clothes, he can manage something to wear the next day, even if they don’t make it to the mall. Kurt figures it’s better to be prepared. Shorts and t-shirt on, Kurt makes do with the provided ‘facial soap’ to wash with, then he rejoins Finn on the bed. 

“Did I miss any other Mexican cuisine?”

“Yeah, she dropped something into a deep fryer,” Finn says. “I don’t know what it was, but it looked good!”

“Meat or dough?” 

“Dough or maybe some kind of tortilla,” Finn says.

“Is she going to roll it in cinnamon sugar, do you think?”

“It had meat and stuff inside it, so I dunno. Maybe. That could be really good or really gross.”

“Oh, probably not, then.” Kurt frowns. “I like the fried tortillas with the cinnamon sugar.” 

“Dude, I _love_ those things,” Finn says. He looks over at Kurt, grinning, then seems startled. “You’re wearing shorts.”

“I had forgotten I was keeping them in my bag, but they’re certainly better to sleep in than my pants.” 

“Oh.” Finn looks at his jeans. “I guess I’ll just sleep in my boxers. I’ve worn jeans for like three or four weeks without washing them.”

Kurt wrinkles his nose almost reflexively. “ _Weeks_?”

“Then I spilled milk on them,” Finn says.

“Do I need to regularly plan to spill drinks on you so you change your jeans more often?” Kurt asks. 

“Hey, there was no use crying about it,” Finn says with a shrug. After the dough is retrieved from the fryer—no cinnamon added—the current show ends, followed by another, less interesting Spanish-language cooking show hosted by an older man with a large mustache. Finn’s arms drop to the bed and he lowers his chin down to rest on top of his hands. “This guy’s not as good. I liked that lady more.”

“Maybe he’ll use cinnamon sugar,” Kurt muses, his gaze flickering between the television and Finn’s face, which seems to get sadder as minutes tick by without more tacos appearing. Kurt stops himself from putting his hand on the back of Finn’s leg, but he does start talking again. 

“You looked startled when I said ‘empty’ earlier,” Kurt says quietly. 

“I guess I didn’t think it was a word anybody else would use when they thought about sex,” Finn answers. He keeps his face turned towards the television, and Kurt can see his back tense. 

“The disastrous week that we’ll just call the Mellencamp Affair,” Kurt begins, waiting for Finn to nod before continuing, “when I was letting Brittany kiss me—that’s how it felt. Empty.” 

“I’ve kissed girls, you know? I just thought that... it was _sex_. Guys are supposed to just like it, not get all emotional and weird about it,” Finn says. “I mean, I managed to—” He tips his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “So I should’ve just been happy. That’s kinda supposed to be the point, but it just didn’t...”

“Despite that being the prevailing narrative, from what I’ve observed, guys do in fact get ‘emotional and weird’,” Kurt points out. “Look at Puck. And clearly it’s _not_ emotional for Santana. She just enjoys it.” Kurt shrugs. “It just didn’t what?”

“Make me feel like I thought it would,” Finn says. “It was just sorta wet and terrifying, and no matter what I did I was, like, _so_ obviously not doing it right.”

Kurt makes a face, because the thought of something wet and terrifying is terrifying on its own. “I don’t really have any, ah. Suggestions in that area.” Kurt stretches his feet and then points them, doing it again when he realizes how tight his feet are after the entire day of driving and shopping. Without moving his head from where it’s propped, Finn reaches over and runs one fingernail down the arch of Kurt’s right foot. 

“Stop!” Kurt says, in something close to a screech. Finn doesn’t respond at first, then he does it again, running his fingertip down Kurt’s arch, still staring ahead at the cooking show on the television.

Kurt’s foot jerks, and he glances at the backs of Finn’s legs, then presses two fingers lightly on the back of Finn’s knee, slowly moving them. Finn squawks and rolls to the side, pulling his leg away from Kurt. He looks at Kurt’s foot, then up at Kurt’s face, then down at Kurt’s foot again.

“Don’t even _consider_ it, Finn Hudson,” Kurt says. “Don’t you dare.” 

Finn brings one hand slowly down on the top of Kurt’s right foot, pinning it to the bed for a second before wrapping his whole hand around it and lifting it. He gives Kurt a huge, mischievous grin before pulling the foot a little closer and proceeding to tickle it with his other hand, holding Kurt’s foot too tightly for Kurt to pull it away.

“Finn!” Kurt says in a voice that Kurt will concede mentally is more like a squeal. “Stop!” 

“Okay,” Finn says, then immediately continues tickling Kurt’s foot. 

“That’s not stopping!” Kurt point out, still squealing. 

“Nope,” Finn agrees, sitting up more and pulling on Kurt’s foot, dragging it forward until it’s propped in Finn’s lap, where Finn tickles it again. “It’s not!”

“You’re supposed to stop!”

“I know!” Finn answers. 

“But you _aren’t_ ,” Kurt says, squirming ineffectually. 

“‘Cause you don’t _really_ want me to,” Finn says. “You didn’t even try to kick me!”

“I can try!” Kurt protests, but all he manages to do is bring himself closer to Finn, which makes it even harder to kick at him. 

“Okay, if you really, really want me to,” Finn says, starting to loosen his grip on Kurt’s foot. “You’re sure you want me to?”

Kurt looks at Finn suspiciously. “Why do I have a feeling you’ll just grab my other foot instead?”

“Uhhh, ‘cause that’s totally what I’m gonna do?”

“Fine,” Kurt says with what he hopes is some aplomb. He leans forward, stretching his hands towards Finn’s side, running one hand down while the other is still moving. Finn wiggles and twists away, grabbing Kurt’s other foot in the process and tickling it, all while laughing. Kurt can hear his own squeals getting louder, and he thinks that it’s probably good the motel looked more or less unoccupied. He squirms again, his right leg ending up behind Finn, and Kurt realizes he’s pressed up against Finn’s side, moderately firmly. 

Kurt stills at the same time as Finn, their eyes locked and their breaths coming heavily. Kurt is pretty sure that this is _definitely_ one of those moments from a gay romantic comedy, and he feels his tongue dart across his lower lip. Kurt suddenly feels Finn’s hand against his back, steadying him and barely pulling him closer. Kurt lets his eyes flutter closed as he leans forward just enough to eliminate the distance between him and Finn. His lips land on Finn’s, at first tentatively, and then he puts more pressure into it, and after another moment he can feel and taste the smudge of frosting on Finn’s lower lip. Finn leans forward ever so slightly, just enough that Kurt knows he’s not imagining the movement, and he can feel Finn’s hand gathering the fabric of Kurt’s t-shirt that’s underneath it. Kurt’s own hand curls into Finn’s t-shirt, and Kurt lets his lips open just a little more, still pressed against Finn’s mouth. 

Finn’s lips part against Kurt’s, his tongue slipping hesitantly into Kurt’s mouth. Kurt can hear himself whimper, leaning towards Finn a bit more, and the hand pressing against Kurt’s back pulls him closer, Finn’s other arm going around Kurt as well. Kurt’s other hand lands on Finn’s leg, and he hears another whimper, though this time he’s not sure which of them it is. Kurt slides his tongue cautiously along Finn’s, before realizing that neither of them has stopped to take a breath. Kurt breaks away with an audible gasp, his eyes half open as he looks at Finn. 

Finn takes a deep, ragged breath, confirming that he hadn’t been breathing either. His eyes move over Kurt’s face, and he looks a little startled, but not like he’s going to start freaking out or anything. “Um.” Kurt bites at his lip. “I, um. Never kissed a boy before.” 

“Yeah,” Finn says, a bashful smile playing across his face. “Me neither.”

“We should talk about this,” Kurt starts, then he returns Finn’s smile. “Or, um, we could try that again?”

“Yeah, we should do that,” Finn says, moving in to kiss Kurt again. Kurt squeaks as their lips meet, and his fingers grip more tightly at Finn’s t-shirt as he immediately lets his mouth open under Finn’s. Finn leans back, still holding on to Kurt and kissing him, and Kurt moves with him, letting their momentum push them over until Kurt is sprawled across Finn, one of Finn’s legs between his, the two of them still kissing. Kurt moves the hand that was on Finn’s leg up to let it lie gently against Finn’s cheek. 

Finn holds Kurt against him, his fingers clutching at and releasing Kurt’s shirt as his hands move across Kurt’s back. They keep kissing until Kurt has to acknowledge that he’s not really breathing this time, either, and he pulls back with stuttered little gasps for breath. 

“Finn?” he says softly. 

“Hey,” Finn says. He gently brushes the hair off Kurt’s forehead, looking wide-eyed up at Kurt. 

“If we stop to talk about it, can we do this more later?” Kurt asks, staring at the corner of Finn’s mouth instead of straight into his eyes. 

“I want to,” Finn answers. “If you want to, I want to.”

Kurt nods, probably a little too enthusiastically, then rests his head on Finn’s shoulder. “Is this... is this sort of what you were talking about? Earlier?”

Finn nods his head against Kurt’s. “Yeah,” he whispers. 

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says quietly. “Not that _I’m_ sorry, but... I know.” 

“Yeah,” Finn repeats. “I know you know.” He sighs, resting his chin on top of Kurt’s head. “It sucks. Not this part, just...”

“The everyone else part. Or most of everyone else,” Kurt supplies, barely nodding. 

“I thought I was just confused, at first. I mean, I dated Quinn forever, and so you know we weren’t really doing much of anything,” Finn says. “And Rachel’s kind of the same. I swear, I didn’t know for sure until Santana.”

“And you were scared,” Kurt says matter of factly. He remembers being scared, when he realized for sure, even if it was at a considerably younger age. 

Finn nods again. “Yeah. And I thought—” He breathes out loudly, one of his hands moving to the back of Kurt’s hair, petting Kurt’s hair. “The more people notice you, the more they might notice me, and I didn’t want anybody to notice me.”

“It’s easier in some ways to hide.” Kurt takes a deep breath, letting himself appreciate the smell of Finn all around him. “And in other ways, it’s easier not to hide.” He takes another deep breath. “I _am_ sorry if I—made you feel pushed one way or another.”

“You didn’t know. You couldn’t’ve. _I_ didn’t even really know,” Finn says.

“I know. But I’m sorry if I made it harder because of something I did.” Kurt pauses. “Not because of anything they did reacting to me. They have to own that.” And maybe Finn’s right, that he couldn’t have known, but maybe some part of him had sensed _something_. The whole idea of gaydar can’t be completely off. Still, Kurt doesn’t mention it, focusing on how Finn’s arms feel. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Finn says. “I haven’t been very nice to you since—since I figured it out.”

“Like I said the other day,” Kurt says quietly, “I’m safe. But thank you for the apology.”

“Thanks for listening, and for, you know. This. Not just this part, but the whole day. It felt really good.”

“I had a lot of fun,” Kurt agrees. “Even the alternator part. Maybe especially the alternator part, since it means we’re here.” 

“Yeah, it’s like our _lucky_ alternator,” Finn says.

“We don’t have to keep it, do we?”

“I dunno how big an alternator is, so maybe not?”

“I don’t think it will go with the fish or the buffalo.” Kurt pauses. “Or the egg timer.”

“I don’t know how that egg timer got in there,” Finn says, his voice firm. “The fish and the buffalo are awesome, though.”

“I never thought I’d have a foolish fish and a judgmental fish on my wall.” Kurt pauses. “Wait, I’m not the judgmental fish, am I?”

“Maybe he’s not really judgmental. Maybe he’s got, what’s that thing? Where someone else is doing something you wish you could do?” Finn asks.

“Wistful? Longing?”

“Yeah, longing,” Finn says. “He’s a longing fish. You’re probably not that one. Plus, he’s the bigger fish.” 

“So I’m the foolish jumping fish?” Kurt raises his head, trying to look skeptically at Finn.

“You can be the buffalo if you want, instead,” Finn offers. “He’s just normal.”

“Maybe we’re both buffalo, then,” Kurt says softly. “Just normal.”

“You can be the buffalo and I’ll be the bowl of oranges,” Finn says. 

“Hmm.” Kurt nods after a few seconds, then presses his lips to the corner of Finn’s mouth. “Okay,” he whispers, his lips hovering over Finn’s. 

“Can we be all done with the talking part for now?” Finn asks. He smoothes his hands down Kurt’s back, stopping at the waistband of Kurt’s shorts.

“Yes,” Kurt says, then laughs. “We can even say we made it an early night.” 

“Okay,” Finn says. He lifts his head off the bed, turning his face towards Kurt’s. 

Kurt smiles at Finn. “Well, hello there, Finn Hudson.”

Finn’s smile is shy, but warm. “Hi there, Kurt Hummel.”

Kurt half ducks his head, his smile getting bigger, and then he leans in to kiss Finn again, much less tentatively than before. He slowly runs his tongue along Finn’s bottom lip, and Finn’s mouth opens. Finn pulls Kurt against him harder, pushing the leg between Kurt’s legs up against Kurt a little. Kurt whines into Finn’s mouth, rocking his pelvis down against Finn’s leg and opening his lips more widely against Finn’s. Finn presses one hand against Kurt’s lower back and moves the other to Kurt’s hair, stroking it before burying his fingers in it. 

“Finn,” Kurt mumbles into Finn’s mouth, and the motions of their legs and hips falls into an easy rhythm. Kurt hears another whine, and he realizes that this time, it’s Finn, hard and stuck still in his presumably not-milk encrusted jeans, and Kurt moves his hand between the two of them, reaching for Finn’s waistband. 

“Kurt?” Finn says against Kurt’s lips. 

“Yes?” Kurt answers, feeling a bit proud that he seems to have figured out the breathing better. 

“Should I take ‘em off?”

Kurt nods, his hand working at the zipper. “Yes. You should.” 

“Okay,” Finn says, also nodding his head. He puts his hand over Kurt’s and helps him lower the zipper, then lifts his hips up, pulling the jeans down and squirming to kick them off. Kurt puts his hand on top of Finn, looking up at Finn. 

“Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Finn answers breathily. “I’m okay, I’m so okay.”

Kurt smiles, gradually smiling wider, and he curls his fingers around Finn, over the fabric. “You can, um. If you want?” 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. “You’re sure?” His hand moves from Kurt’s lower back to his hip, stroking it gently. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Kurt says, his fingers tightening slightly. Finn moans and slides his hand from Kurt’s hip to the front of Kurt’s shorts, cupping him through the knit fabric. Kurt’s head tilts back and he whimpers. Finn’s mouth travels to Kurt’s neck, kissing him there and on his throat as he moves his hand awkwardly and a little too roughly on Kurt, and Kurt’s hand moves in response. “Finn,” Kurt murmurs. 

Finn nods like Kurt asked him a question, pressing his lips to Kurt’s pulse, then trailing his tongue down Kurt’s throat. His lips move against Kurt’s still, muttering something too low for Kurt to hear. 

“Hmm?” Kurt says, moving his hand faster over Finn. 

“This is so much better,” Finn says a little louder, his lips still on Kurt’s throat. 

“Better than?” Kurt asks, pushing into Finn’s hand. 

“Anything,” Finn answers.

Kurt smiles, feeling himself blush, and he bends his head to kiss Finn again, his hand still moving. Finn’s hand curls a little more around Kurt through his shorts as he kisses Kurt back even harder. Kurt lets his tongue push into Finn’s mouth as he pushes down against Finn, and he slowly moves his hand, sliding it under the waistband of Finn’s boxers before wrapping his fingers around Finn again as he whines against Finn’s lips. 

“Kurt, oh shit,” Finn says. “Kurt.”

“Yes,” Kurt says, even though he’s not sure what question he’s answering. “Yes.” 

Finn moves his hand on Kurt through the shorts a little longer, then shoves his hand inside Kurt’s shorts, curling his fingers around Kurt’s cock and moving in slow, rough strokes. Kurt whimpers again, moving his hand over Finn and letting out short gasps as they move together. Kurt tightens his hand around Finn’s cock, moving it faster. Finn starts making little whimpers, jerking his hips in time to the movements of Kurt’s hand. Kurt stares at Finn’s face, his hand moving almost automatically. 

“Kurt,” Finn says again, his voice low and almost frantic-sounding. “Oh shit, Kurt, Kurt!”

Kurt’s eyes are still on Finn’s face as Finn comes, and Kurt forces himself to keep moving his hand on Finn’s cock until he stills and whimpers. Kurt stops his hand as Finn’s hand moves over Kurt’s cock again, and Kurt pushes into Finn’s hand as he slowly pulls his own hand, covered in come, out of Finn’s boxers.

“Finn,” Kurt says, almost stuttering, and Finn replies, “Yeah,” moving his hand faster. Kurt pushes down against Finn’s hand and lets out an embarrassingly high whine as he comes, his body sagging down on top of Finn’s. 

“That’s... really messy,” Kurt murmurs. “Good, but messy.” 

“Messier than I realized it would be,” Finn says. “I mean, I guess I should’ve realized, but, still really good.”

“At least we’re on the bedspread?” Kurt says. “I, um. I don’t think I can sleep in these, though.” 

“Yeah, same.” Finn carefully pulls his hand out of Kurt’s shorts and wipes it on the bedspread. 

“We should sleep. After we’re not messy,” Kurt amends. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Finn answers. He sounds a little surprised, but he pulls Kurt against him again. “I’m okay.”

Kurt kisses Finn slowly, then wipes his hand on a different spot of the bedspread. He lies on top of Finn for a few moments before wriggling. “I have to take these off,” he confesses. 

“Okay, that’s cool. I think, uh. Probably me, too,” Finn says. 

Kurt wriggles more, sliding off Finn and then standing up to peel off his clothes. He stands awkwardly after he realizes he’s completely naked, biting on his lower lip and looking sideways at Finn. Finn watches Kurt with interest, a slight smile on his face, then he stands up, too, and takes off his own shirt and boxers. Kurt lets his eyes roam over Finn’s body for a few moments before he can feel himself blushing again. 

“Bed?” Kurt says quietly. 

“Yeah, I’m kinda tired,” Finn says. He slips under the covers, folding back the blankets on the other side for Kurt. Kurt climbs in, scooting close to Finn, nodding his agreement. Finn pulls Kurt against him and curls around him with a deep sigh. Kurt stretches his arm out to click the lamp off, and the outside lights filter in enough for Kurt to make Finn out. 

“No clap-on lamp,” Kurt murmurs, hiding his face against Finn’s neck and shoulder.

“We could get one for our room, though,” Finn says. 

“Yeah.” Kurt closes his eyes and exhales happily. “Night.” 

“Uh-huh,” Finn agrees quietly. “Night.”

***

Kurt wakes up warm and content, and neither feeling really leaves him while he finds an alternator and purchases it. Once he opens up the Navigator, Finn does his best to help, but Kurt finally sends him into the McDonald’s for Egg McMuffins. The alternator installed, they empty their room and check out of the Knights Inn, getting back on I-75 North.

“So, Finn,” Kurt says, pausing to take a drink of his pop. 

“Yeah?” Finn asks. He’s been alternating between drumming on the door interior and his knees since they merged onto the highway, and seems perfectly happy.

“What _are_ we going to do about all the other people out there?”

Finn pauses in his drumming. “Uh. We can just keep skipping forever?”

“I don’t think Mr. Schue will let us sing at Regionals if we skip too many days.” 

“Oh, yeah, that would suck,” Finn says. He sighs and drums on the door a little more. “So, the way I see it, there’s two possible solutions.”

Kurt nods. “Okay. Which are?” 

“Well, there’s solution number one, which is that we don’t tell anybody about this, and we keep it secret, at least for a while,” Finn says. “So I guess at school we’d just have to act like normal, or before-normal, anyway.”

“And the other solution?”

“We just say the hell with it and I’ll carry your bag in on Monday, and you hold my hand, and if I get the crap beat out of me, you can hold an ice bag on my face,” Finn says. “So that one has more bleeding, but less lying.”

Kurt takes another sip of pop to hide his smile, because both of Finn’s solutions still mean they’d be together. “And which do you prefer?” Kurt asks finally. 

“I don’t really want to get hit,” Finn says, “but you’re the one who keeps telling me I suck at being sneaky, so it seems like that could be a possibility either way.”

“You do a little bit. You didn’t time _anything_ yesterday.” Kurt smiles at Finn. “Does solution number two involve telling our parents, too?” 

“I didn’t say we’d _tell_ anybody. We’d just hold hands and we wouldn’t lie if they asked us,” Finn says. “You think Mom and Burt will ask us as long as we don’t hold hands where they see it?”

“Honestly?” Kurt shakes his head. “No.” 

“So—so then maybe the next time somebody says something about me, or about me and you, maybe I just say, ‘yeah, so what’?” Finn offers. “We’ll still have the glee club, no matter what.”

“Like you did yesterday with Puck?” Kurt asks. 

Finn grins at him. “Yeah, I guess I kinda did, huh?”

Kurt laughs and nods. “Yes, you really kind of did.” 

“Then we actually don’t _have_ to tell anybody in glee club, because they’ll all know by Monday, so you may as well just let me carry your books in, I guess,” Finn says. “Sound good?”

“Puck is a bit of a gossip, isn’t he?” Kurt muses, then nods. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” Finn agrees. “So, we’re off to a pretty good start, then.”

“Buffalo shower curtain, fish wall art, and a bowl of oranges,” Kurt lists off. “Relationships have definitely been built on worse foundations.” 

“Exactly,” Finn says. 

They aren’t exactly riding off into the sunset on stallions while wearing stetsons, but driving northward towards home in the late morning sun isn’t bad, either.


End file.
